Black's War
by BigHead
Summary: Harry now knows that is kill or be killed. Is he ready for it, or will he be ready for it?
1. Surprises

Black's War

Disclaimer: Don't own them, JK does, and boy, isn't that great?

Summary: Harry now knows that is kill or be killed. Is he ready for it, or will he _be_ ready for it?

Timeline: Year six

Author Notes: I've started this before HBP was even launched, so it'll be an AU from start to end. And many thanks to a ton of people: Jeconais, Ruskbyte, Bobmin356, Abraxan, Ed Becerra and a few other for the inspiration, Vicki, Brian, CJ, CanadianSatan and Len for being my sounding boards and betas plus friends. Reviews are Welcome.

And I'll always post first at my group in tv. groups. yahoo. com / group / bigheadfics / Remove the spaces, and there you go.

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Chapter 1 – Surprises

The Great Hall did not look anything like he had seen before. The usually bright and cheerful place now looked like the interior of a dark, dank and foreboding cavern, the candles which brought light to it were nowhere to be seen, the only light in the environment came from a few torches placed at even distances on the pillars of the hall, plus the sick green glow coming from the ceiling, now enchanted to show the Dark Mark, instead of the sky outside.

The house tables were filled to capacity, but instead of the bright and cheerful students, in their place stood silent and serious-looking children, all dressed from head to toe in black Death Eater regalia, sans masks, faces obscured by hoods.

Worse of it all was the staff table. Instead of McGonagall, Flitwick, Hooch and the others, there were faces that Harry wanted to see either dead, or in jail.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Lucius Malfoy.

Antonin Dolohov.

Walden Macnair.

Rastaban Lestrange.

Rodolphus Lestrange.

Peter Pettigrew.

And worst of all, sitting on the chair that belonged to the Headmaster of Hogwarts was the leader of them all. Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Lord Voldemort.

The place was silent, but it looked like the beginning of another year, even the Sorting Hat was on display in front of the staff table.

The main doors opened with a bang, but instead of the group of new students, the silence was broken by the magical song of a phoenix, which flown through the open door, followed by a huge black grim, the animagus form of Sirius Black.

The phoenix soared high through the ceiling, her song unfortunately falling on deaf ears. There was no hope in the room, only pain, fear and obedience.

The huge dog stopped right in front of Voldemort, and it transformed back into human, Fawkes calmly landing on his shoulder. Sirius pointed his finger in the direction of the Dark Lord.

'_Power the Dark Lord knows not,' _he said, in an eerie voice.

Voldemort stood, removing his wand from his robe's pocket.

'_Avada Kedavra.'_

-oOo-

Harry woke up screaming from the nightmare, the greenish hue of the Unforgivable still very much present on his mind's eye. He managed to control himself, the scream dying and leaving a rough and dry throat behind. He looked around in panic for a second, one hand flying to his wand resting below his pillow the other for his glasses on the chair he had placed right beside the bed, until his mind recognized where he was.

Privet Drive. The Dursleys.

"Ah, bugger," he cursed almost silently, which gained him the owl equivalent of a glare from Hedwig. "Sorry," he said, finally calming down enough to lower his wand.

The door to his room was opened with a loud bang, the large form of his uncle clad in flannel pajamas filling up the opening. Harry pointed the wand to him more to scare him than anything else, he knew that he was coming as soon as he was cognitive enough.

"What happened, boy?" he asked in a rage, turning purple at the sight of the raised wand. "And lower that thing, you can't use magic outside of school."

"Nothing," he replied in a hard tone. "Just some bad dreams."

Harry could almost hear the blood pressure rising on his uncle and the sound of the gears spinning on his brain. The man would pop a gasket any second now, but at the same time, the threats issued at the station a few days ago were still clear in his mind.

"Keep it down, there are people who work in this house," he said finally, after a few moments. He closed the door almost gently, but with enough force to rattle a few walls, locking it behind him.

Harry sighed and lowered his wand, guarding it again behind his pillow.

"So much for sleep," he muttered.

Standing up, he started walking from one side of the room to another, mind deep in thought.

That's how the sun found him the next morning, still pacing.

-oOo-

The breakfast was another event all unto itself. Aunt Petunia hadn't ordered him to cook since he arrived, but she found him out at the kitchen, with all the meal ready and waiting at the dishes. Vernon hadn't complained, and Dudley had kept his mouth shut, shooting strange glances to him once in a while. 

Harry himself had just eaten a toast covered with jam and took a few sips of tea, gaining enough courage to speak what he needed. In his mind, this was hilarious, he could face Voldemort without trembling, but the simple act of speaking with his relatives made him shiver slightly. Finally, after a few moments, he spoke.

"We need to talk."

Vernon just folded his newspaper and looked at him, while Petunia and Dudley simply stopped the feeding motions. He took a deep breath and began.

"There's a war happening in the . . . my world," he said, trying to avoid anything that had to do with the word 'wizard'.

"What does it have to do with us, boy? We are not part of you _freaks_," Vernon said, and as an afterthought, he continued. "Matter of fact, if all of you died, I wouldn't shed a tear of pity for _any _of you."

Harry almost jumped on the table and onto his uncle's throat, but two things stopped him. One, if he let the anger took the best of him now he would lost any chance of asking anything, and two, he saw with the corner of his eyes that Dudley actually flinched when his father had spoken.

"That's the biggest problem," he continued, forcing his voice to remain even. "The man who's waging this war is not fond of Mu… humans, as well. If he wins, probably next year, or the year after, you would all be living in something that makes Nazi Camps look like a walk in the park on a sunny day."

Vernon snorted. "Do you think that the Crown would let this freak go anywhere? He would be captured or killed in a matter of days."

Harry sighed. "Uncle Vernon, you know nothing about our world. If I didn't have restrictions placed on me, or if I didn't choose to follow them, I could level this entire home with a single spell, disappear in a mere moment, and kill the queen the next. So, it won't be as easy as you think. Voldemort is dangerous, and he has no mercy." This was actually a bit far fetched, but not much so.

The reaction from the Dursleys was what he had expected, surprised looks and panic from both Petunia and Dudley, and hatred from Vernon.

"So, what does it have to do with us, boy?" he asked again, under gritted teeth.

"I'm . . . special, in this war. I have a sort of . . . connection with Voldemort, and he fears that, so I'm being hunted by him and his followers. I've fought them to a standstill a few days ago, and for now they must be laying low for a bit. A group of friends is planning and fighting him even as we speak, and I need to know what's going on, so I can prepare and help them, if needed."

Vernon thought it over for a few seconds. "So, tell me why I just don't simply throw you out that door and leave you to be found by this Varicort fellow?"

Harry took a deep breath. Time to see if his thinking paid off or no.

"My mother left me a protection when she died, that's why I have to stay with my aunt for a time every year. This protection ensues that Voldemort doesn't find me or mine for the entire year. So, keeping me here will probably let you live for the entire year, even after I'm gone to my school."

The burly man digested this for a moment. "And why are you telling us this?"

"I need a few . . . concessions. I need to send and receive owls, but I'll do it at night when they won't be seen by the neighbors. I need to receive a few friends, but they will arrive at the front door, we'll talk at my room, and they won't do any magic at the house. That's it."

Vernon stood up from his chair after a few moments. "I have to leave for work. I'll give you an answer when I get back."

Harry thanked the gods mentally, at least it wasn't a straight 'no'.

-oOo-

A few hours later, Harry was sitting on his bed, pouring his other ideas on a piece of parchment when a soft knock was heard at the door. That was another surprise, no one knocked on his door, they preferred to barge in unannounced.

"Come in," he spoke, louder.

The door opened and Dudley walked in with unsure steps. "H-hi. Can I come in?" he asked. Harry almost gaped at the sight, but instead only nodded a small affirmative.

Dudley looked around the room nervously, trying to find something. Harry decided to help him.

"Why don't you sit down?" he said, pointing to the chair. Dudley did as told, pushing the chair nearer the bed.

"Now, Dudders, what do you want?" he asked, seriously.

The huge boy shuddered slightly, and after taking a deep breath, finally looked at him. "A-are we in danger?" he asked in a small, scared voice.

That made Harry gape. He would have expected this maybe from his aunt, never from his cousin, from what he knew was a younger version of Vernon. Shaking the weird feeling from his mind, he tried to focus on an answer that would make sense.

"Maybe. Right now, directly from Voldemort I wouldn't think so, otherwise he would have attacked us last year."

"And t-those things that attacked u-us?" he asked, shivering from the memories.

"The dementors? They were sent by a madwoman from the Ministry of Magic just to discredit me, and that's what I fear the most now. But I do have a few 'bodyguards' around now, and I guess they will do a better job than last year, or so I hope."

"What's so different now?"

Harry looked to his cousin, this dialog _really_ wasn't what he expected.

"Voldemort has finally reappeared to the public eye. Last year, only I and his followers had witnessed his resurrection, but a few days ago he had to appear to try to solve a mess that his followers had created."

Then suddenly, the memory of Sirius falling through the veil returned with a vengeance, and he halted, going pasty white.

"Harry, what's wrong?"

The young wizard looked at the _worried_ face of his cousin, and tried to shake off the memory, failing miserably. "Bad memory," he said with a strained voice.

"Care to speak about it? It helps," Dudley said.

"_Why do you care?"_ he said between gritted teeth, tears threatening to fall.

Dudley jumped backwards a bit, scared, but he had taken a decision before entering the room, and he would see to it.

"T-that's why I came here, Harry. To talk to you and to . . . to thank you."

The phrase was so surprising that it had the effect of breaking through Harry's reaction, and he sobered almost instantly.

"What?" he asked in a small voice, really not believing what he had heard.

"Thank you. I really didn't thank you last year after you saved me from those things, whatever they were."

Harry was so stunned that he remained mute, so Dudley continued.

"When I went back to Smeltings I was so scared of it that I couldn't sleep, couldn't study, couldn't do anything. I was scared of my own shadow. My so-called _'friends'_ took the opportunity to reverse the tables on me, and instead of the bully, I became the bullied."

"Serves you right," Harry mumbled, not really caring with his cousin's reaction.

"It did," came the surprisingly calm answer. Harry looked in awe at his cousin. "You see, after the first . . . rough housings, I became distant, from everyone. Then, I started thinking about you, and how would you feel when I did that to you. And that got me thinking. And those are the first 'I'm sorry' I'm going to say today. I'm sorry I bullied you, I'm sorry I hit you. I know it might not sound much, but after I've said everything I want to say, I think you'll understand."

Harry nodded, too surprised to say anything else.

"I was walking around corners all the time, until a girl approached me. Patricia Brooks. She isn't exactly beautiful, but she's cute, and she is very smart and friendly. She told me she found it 'really unfair' what people were doing with me. Really unfair. Can you believe it?"

Harry was intrigued at this point. What had happened to the huge burly?

"I got her into an empty classroom, and I simply . . . crumbled. Yeah, that's the best word, crumbled. I told her everything, Harry."

The wizard's eyes grew large, and Dudley noticed.

"No, not about magic. I'm not that stupid, and I don't want to spend the rest of my days in the hospice. But I told her about my life, what I did to you, how I treated you, and how you ended up saving me from a couple of really bad guys. Do you know what she did? She slapped me. She's like five foot six, must weight about seven stone wet, and she. Slapped. Me."

Harry actually laughed with the silly expression on his cousin's face.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Anyway, instead of running away and telling the headmaster what I did, she just asked me 'Why?'"

Dudley sighed, and put his ham-sized hands in Harry's knees, an action that garnered a flinch from the wizard and a small hand movement to the wand hidden at his back. The supposed ex-burly noticed, and removed the hands quickly and non-threateningly.

"Sorry for that, and another I'm sorry from my past. I'm sorry that I made you fear me, you are my cousin and one of the only relatives that I now can see that I like."

"W-why are you telling me all this, Dudley?" Harry finally regained enough of his composure to ask.

"Lemme continue, and I guess you'll understand. When she asked me why, I couldn't form an answer. That was what my father did, and I thought I was doing the right thing by following his footsteps, that's what I knew then. I told her this, and she looked mightily sad, and pissed as well. She told me my father should be arrested, that what he was doing should be considered slavery, that she was going to call Child Protection Services onto him and a ton of other things. For a calm and contained girl, she swears like a sailor."

Harry surprised them both by laughing slightly. Dudley smiled, and kept telling his tale.

"She does. I begged her to not do that, because . . . well, he is my father. So, she made me choose, either I would go and talk with the school's shrink about what happened, or she would go straight to the headmaster to tell what had happened."

Dudley stood up, and began pacing the room, much like Harry did the previous night.

"I went, and at the beginning it was extremely awkward. I mean, can you imagine me, talking about myself and my bloody parents and you, without sounding like a complete lunatic? Then, the doctor told me that all that I said to her would be kept under strict confidentiality, and after a couple sessions, I opened up. I mean, I really opened up. And don't worry, I haven't said anything about magic to her as well. She made me see what a complete idiot I have been all this time, and that all my previous view on life was completely distorted. And that brings me to my last I'm sorry of this story, I don't know how you'll see all of this, but I'm sorry for being a right bastard to you, in all aspects. I know that a simple I'm sorry isn't enough, and I haven't finished my tale yet, but I want you to know that I will never, ever treat you like that, ever again."

Dudley sat once again at the chair, looking to a dumbstruck Harry. The young wizard looked at him for a few moments, a series of different emotions playing on the green eyes. Finally, Harry huffed and lowered his head.

"Look," he started, voice low. "I don't know what you want, Dudley. My forgiveness, I don't know if I can give you that yet, if ever. I can try, no guarantees. But I won't forget what you or your dad did to me, ever. That's not something that you can just pass a layer of paint on top and forget about, you know?" Harry raised his head, and looked him straight in the eyes.

Dudley lowered his head, looking defeated. "I know. And I'm sorry for my dad as well. I will try and speak to him, okay?"

"Don't do that, it will only make things worse. He'll think I made something to you. Let it go, I'll deal with him in my own time, okay?" Harry said.

"Just… don't kill him, okay? He's still my dad, with all his faults and shortcomings."

"I won't. I've seen enough death for a lifetime. I hate him, but I'm not sure that I want to see him dead by my hand," Harry said, and looked to his own hands. "Does aunt Petunia know? What you told me?"

"More or less. She knows that I went to see the shrink for some time, she even said that she would complain to the headmaster, but I ended up telling her that it was common to the sports team members to go, and she folded. But she doesn't know that I came to speak to you," he said.

Harry thought it over for a moment, and extended his hand. "Hi, I'm Harry Potter."

Dudley looked oddly to the hand for a second, until comprehension dawned and a large smile appeared on his face. "Hi, Dudley Dursley."

"Don't think that this puts a rock in our past, but I'd like to know this new cousin of mine," Harry said, with a slight smile.

"Don't worry, I understand. But for _you_ to understand, I have to finish my story. So, I started to wait for our sessions together, where I could talk with her, and have no fear of being reprimanded, or judged. I started changing my outlook in life, and what I wanted of it. I started studying really hard, and Patricia helped me a lot. She brought another friend of hers, Julius, and soon we were the top three students of our respective classes. I've restarted boxing, but now more as a sport and a way of relieving tension than a way to learn how to hurt people. I think I'm gonna be champion again, but this time I haven't 'trained' outside a ring. When I wasn't practicing or studying, I was hanging out with Julius and Patricia, and suddenly, something changed. I started having feelings for one of them, and somehow it was reciprocated."

Harry looked at his cousin again and smiled slightly. "Is she happy?"

"I think she is, after all she covers for us most of the time," Dudley said, reddening slightly.

It took less than a second for the revelation to be understood and replied in kind. "I could never imagine, Dudley. How?" It didn't have any hint of a critic, only honest curiosity.

"I sincerely don't know. We were talking once, about relationships and the like, you know, and when I realized, we were kissing. I thought about clobbering him for a second, but in the next, I was reciprocating, you know?"

"I don't," Harry answered, seriously. "Not that I do or don't swing this way, but I've never been properly kissed before."

Dudley's mouth fell, but he regained his composure a second later. "You should try it, with someone worthy, Harry. Not that I'm offering or anything, cause I might like you as cousin and probably as a friend, but I honestly don't like you like that."

"Thank Merlin. But for what is worth, I'm . . . happy for you, Dudders."

"Thank you. It means more than you know," he said, standing up.

"Does uncle Vernon know?" Harry asked, before his cousin opened the door.

"No, no one outside the four of us do. Can you imagine what he would do to me if I said to him or my mum that I'm gay?"

"Yes, I can," Harry replied, a lot of sadness and anger on his voice.

"That's why I came to talk to you, because after that I put myself in your position, and for the first time ever in my entire life I cried for you, Harry."

Dudley walked out of the room, leaving the door semi-opened. Harry stood up after a few seconds of thinking, and ran to the door.

"Dudley . . . thank you," he said to the large back moving slowly down the corridor.

Dudley looked back to him, and smiled a sad smile for a moment, before walking to his room.

Harry sat back down on his bed, looking to the surprised Hedwig.

"Can you believe that, girl?" he said, returning to his quill and parchment. He didn't write a single letter on it for a couple of hours.

-oOo-

Night came, and with it came uncle Vernon and dinner. Harry ended up helping his aunt to do the chores, not because she demanded, but because the manual labor gave him time to think without interruptions, and it was almost relaxing in some weird way.

The family, plus Harry, was sitting at the table, finishing dinner, the wizard stealing looks once in a while to his cousin and uncle. After they finished dessert, Vernon placed his massive hands on the table and looked Harry straight in the eye.

"I will agree with your request, under a few conditions. One, you will still do you chores around the house, and two, if any of those freak friends of ours do an inch of magic inside the house, I'll kick you and them off, no second chances. Understood, boy?"

Harry almost made a 'whoop' of joy, but instead he looked to his uncle and said a sedated "yes, uncle Vernon."

He finished up cleaning the dishes and went to his room. Once arriving there, he smiled fully for a second, and then prepared the parchments that he had written during the day and sent it on their way, Hedwig with some strict orders on what to do.

Once the snowy owl had fled off the window, he hit the pillow and was asleep in seconds.

-oOo-

Dudley was sitting on his computer the next day, playing a game, when he noticed Harry standing right at the door. He paused the game, and looked to his cousin.

"Weren't you outside?" he asked, looking at the badly dressed boy.

"Finished already. I was wondering, everything you said to me yesterday was true?" Harry asked, eyes checking him from above his glasses.

Dudley shook his head. "Yeah, it was. Why?"

"You _really_ want to be my friend?"

"Of course I am. I won't back out on that," he said, standing up.

"Then I would like to ask you something. Could you teach me how to use this?" Harry asked, pointing to the computer.

Dudley looked to Harry and to the computer and nodded. "Sure, but there are a lot of things to learn. Do you have anything in mind?"

Harry walked in. "I know that you can search for things and send messages over the Internet. Could you teach me that?"

"Sure," he said, and they sat on the computer. Harry was a fast learner, and he picked up things pretty fast. A couple of hours later, he and Dudley were over one of the search engines on the net, Harry checking links after links on several subjects. Dudley was surprised on most of the topics that Harry searched.

"There truly is a war going on in your world, isn't it?"

A small flare of anger appeared on his face, but it was soon subsided.

"Yes, there is," he answered, in a more normal voice.

"But why are you searching these subjects? Martial arts? Bombs? Guns? I suppose you guys used magic to fight."

"We do, but…" Harry took a deep breath. Time to take a small leap of faith. "This connection that Voldemort and I have runs deeper than I told you guys about. He and I have a destiny together. In the final fight, I have to face him alone, and he has like fifty years of experience over me, so I have to have some advantage."

Dudley was truly surprised with the revelation. "Okay, I can understand that. But don't you think that this guy will be ready for this?"

"He thinks that muggles are weak, so I'm thinking that anything muggle-related he'll promptly discard as useless."

"Then why don't you just pump him full of bullets and forget about it?"

"Because he's really powerful, Dudley, and he escaped death once. I have to think things pretty clearly before doing something stupid."

Dudley nodded. "That's a good idea. Hey, look, do you want to have an e-mail so you could trade messages with your friends?"

"We use owls, Dud. Not much use in one of those."

"But this Voldemort fellow can probably intercept an owl. Since you said that he thinks that muggles are useless, an e-mail will never enter his plans."

Harry mused it for a few moments. It was a good idea, and perhaps Hermione had one of those things.

"That's probably a good idea. What do I have to do?"

"Lemme handle it," Dudley said, and sat back down on the PC. After a few minutes, Harry was the proud owner of a brand new electronic mail address.

"And this way," Dudley said, finalizing his explanations, "you can come here and check your e-mail with privacy. I don't know your password, so all that you receive will be for your eyes only. Now, all you have to do is to have the e-mail addresses of your friends."

Harry smiled and stood up. "Thank you, Dudley. That means a lot to me."

His cousin smiled back, and replied. "Don't worry. If what you said is halfway true, helping the good guys win a war is what any sane person would do."

"True, my friend. Very true," Harry said, finally looking to a surprised Dudley. "What?"

"Y-you… you called me your friend."

Harry replayed the conversation on his mind, and smiled slightly. "I guess I did. But you are on probation."

"I know," Dudley said, smiling.

"I have to go. Thank you," Harry said, and walked down and out to the back garden, to think things through.

-oOo-

After a couple of hours, Harry heard the front door bell ringing, and someone went to open the door. After a few moments, Petunia appeared at the back garden, looking for him.

"There is a woman looking for you. Clean up and go talk with her. She doesn't look like one of those freak friends of yours, but remember what Vernon talked about with you," she said, turned on her heels and walked back in, without even waiting for an answer.

Harry cleaned up quickly and walked back to the living room. Standing near the door was a tall woman, with blonde hair and dressed in classy muggle fashion, holding a small briefcase in one hand. She was around forty, and as soon as she noticed him, she smiled slightly. Aunt Petunia was at her side, scowling.

"Harry Potter? Imogen Cheatam," she said, approaching him with her hand extended. Harry stretched his left hand, while his right approached the wand on his back. Imogen promptly stopped and removed the hand. "Look, I have something here that will prove in name of whom I came, and what I came to speak of, okay?"

Harry nodded, and Imogen picked her briefcase with both hands, opening it with expert movements, but slowly. Harry's hand didn't waver from his wand.

She removed a long gray feather from the briefcase, showing it to him from a distance.

Harry recognized the feather immediately. Buckbeak.

_Sirius._

"Is there any place we can talk privately?"


	2. Conversations

Chapter 2 – Conversations

Even with the sudden introduction, Harry was slightly wary regarding the lady, and remembering the words of Barty Crouch Jr. as Alastor Moody, 'constant vigilance', he kept his hand on his wand.

"The same man who sent me this, also told me to remind you that he never forgot what you and Hermione did to him using a time turner," Imogen said, guarding the feather back in her briefcase. Harry finally relaxed, and let go of the wand. Only the three of them, plus Dumbledore, knew what had happened to Sirius that night. He extended his hand, which the woman promptly shook.

"Hi, a pleasure. And I guess we can talk in my room, right, aunt Petunia?"

His aunt nodded simply, albeit reluctantly. "Remember, Harry, no funny things," she said, with a sneer.

"I do, aunt. If you could follow me, Mrs. Cheatam."

"It's Ms. Cheatam. And of course," she said, with a smile.

They climbed the stairs and entered Harry's room, the woman noticing the locks on the outside. Once they were in, Harry closed the door, and Imogen opened the briefcase again, removing a wand from the interior. Harry's eyes buggered out and his wand was on his hand faster than she blinked.

"Calm down, this is for our privacy," she said, and after a quick incantation, the door glowed for a second. "It is an adapted silencing charm, instead of blocking sound, it changes what we are speaking to something inconspicuous. So, I guess your aunt will be extremely frustrated with what she hears from now on," she said, while guarding her wand back in her briefcase.

Harry grinned, and she fished a business card from her pocket. "Here's my card," she said, giving the small piece of paper to Harry.

_Dewey, Cheatam and Howe_

_Attorneys at Law_

_Imogen Prefecta Cheatam_

_Attorney_

"Someone in your family had a twisted sense of humor, Ms. Cheatam," Harry said, pocketing the card. "Must be easy finding new clients. Sit down, please," he said, pulling the chair to the front of the bed, while he sat on the bed itself.

"You truly are Sirius' godson. He used the exact same joke when he met me. And it _is_ just a name, not how I deal with either my clients or my cases," she said, but with a hint of a smile on her face.

"Sorry if I've offended you. Now, what can I do for you?" he asked.

"No offense, besides, I've heard several variations of the same joke. After a time, you know what to expect. And before we begin, I have something to give you before anything else," she said, opening her briefcase once again. From it, she removed a sealed parchment, and gave it to Harry.

Harry picked it up and noticed two things, first his name on the front, written in Sirius scrawny writing, and the seal of the Blacks on the wax.

_A letter from Sirius._

Harry promptly broke the seal, unfolded the parchment and started reading.

_Dear Harry,_

_Congratulations, son. If you are reading this, it means that I'm dead. Terrible way to start a letter, don't you think?_

_Let me start again._

Harry began to cry.

_Dear Harry,_

_First of all, don't cry. I know it is kind of impossible to ask that of you, but there it is. There is no need for tears. I died, and I died happy, even if I died in pain to protect you, and since we are at war, I probably did. But if I died so you could live, I repeat, **I died happy**_

_And knowing you, you're probably blaming yourself for my untimely demise. Please don't. Voldemort is the one to blame for my death. For Cedric's death. For Lils, for James. **NOT YOU**._

_So, stop being pig-headed about it, and start on living again. Death is a new journey, to a new place. And I'll probably meet Lily and James on the other side, and pull some pranks just to piss off an angel or two._

_This letter should have been delivered by a good friend, Imogen. She's my solicitor, and she has a few things to give to you. Don't worry, she's trustworthy, and she agreed to become your lawyer after I'm gone. She answers to no one but you, and she's as smart as Hermione._

_As you can possibly figure, you're the sole heir of the Black's family fortune. I know that you don't want money, you just want to be left alone. I'm all for that, and after you finish Hogwarts, if you want to buy a small island on the Pacific and live there naked for the rest of your life, please do so._

_Honestly, I know this is probably the last thing you'll do, since Moldieshorts is after your blood. So, I'm asking another thing entirely different of you._

**_DON'T LET THE BASTARD WIN_.**

_Blow him up, curse his sorry arse with the AK fifteen times, I don't know and honestly I don't care. There must have something that muggles have that he can't expect, right? Just don't get thrown in Azkaban. Food's terrible, and the pool is not heated every day._

_One other thing, trust your true friends, there are very few of those in the world, and I've cherished every moment I've lived with Moony, Prongs and Lils. Even Peter, before he betrayed us._

_So, I guess it is time for me to leave for good, but before that I have one last thing to say to you. I loved you like my own son, of my own blood. Don't ever forget that, and as long as you remember me, I'll be by your side._

_I'm serious._

_Oh yeah, I am. That's my name._

_(I just had to use that one last time)_

_With all my love,_

_Sirius Black, Marauder Extraordinaire._

Harry almost couldn't finish the letter, with all the tears falling. Once he finished, he let the letter drop on the ground. Imogen sat on the bed next to him and hugged him, while he cried on her shoulder. He cried for a good fifteen minutes, before he gained a small measure of composure.

"I think I destroyed your jacket," he said, pointing to the large tear stain on the shoulder.

"Nonsense, I'll deal with it in a moment. Are you all right for now?" she asked, sitting back on the chair and opening her briefcase once again.

"Mostly, yeah."

"Good to know," she said, and pointed her wand at the stain, murmuring a quick cleaning charm. In a mere moment, the jacket looked brand new. "Now, let me talk a bit about myself, so you can understand what I came to do here, okay?"

He nodded, and she continued.

"I'm a lawyer, as you know, and I had the good graces of being one in both worlds, the muggle one and the wizarding one. I've been the lawyer of Sirius for a long time now, since his fallings with his family, and we ended up being friends during the process. I even tried to motion for him to be judged when he was accused of being the murderer of those people, but the Ministry can put a lot of weight on the matter when it interests them. So, I was threatened with all sorts of things, from losing my license to physical violence, and unfortunately I had to let the matter go. When he escaped, and after seeking you out and making sure you were okay, he contacted me again and explained everything that had happened. He asked me to change his will to pass everything to you and Remus Lupin, and to purchase a few things in order to help you, and you alone, to win this damned war."

Harry lifted a hand and spoke. "On the subject, what is your opinion on this war?"

"Well, I think that Voldemort should be hanged, shot, drawn and quartered, burned and everything else in between before he died, but that's just my personal opinion. And don't be so surprised that I don't flinch when I say his name. He's just a person. A powerful and scary person, but just a person."

"Good to know. Go on, please," Harry said, with a smile. Thankfully, another one who didn't fear Tom that much.

"So, I have another letter like the one you received to give to Mr. Lupin. And yes, I do know about the Marauders. I've met your parents once, and they seemed like a nice couple. But right now, I'm here to explain a few things and to give you a few other things, okay?"

"Sure."

"First, are these three," she said, removing three notebooks from her briefcase. "This is a diary that Sirius wrote while on the run and the time spent at his home. It is not really a recollection of his days, there are a few passages like that in there, but most of all is a collection of spells, jinxes, charms and everything else that he thought that would be useful for you in this war. He said to me that some of the things in here are for Hermione to research, since he didn't knew much about it, and other things are for Fred and George Weasley to create. And the first one is entirely dedicated on the process of becoming an animagus. It is better than any book I've ever read on the subject, by the way. If I had the time or the inclination, I would be sorely tempted to try it."

Harry's eyes goggled, and he opened the first one, reading a line or two of his godfather's writing. He closed it with a big smile on his face.

"He purchased quite a lot of books as well, and I've ordered a wizard specialized in library charms to create this for you," she said, removing a thin dragon hide covered book from the briefcase. It had a phoenix stamped in gold in the cover "It is an index of all the books he purchased. Tap the name of the book you want to read with your wand, close the book, and open it again. It will now be the book. Close it again, and it will return to be the index. The books themselves are stored in one of the Black vaults in Gringotts."

"And finally this," she said, handling him a signet ring. "The ring of the Black family. You're the one eligible to have it. With it, comes another thing."

Imogen passed him a parchment, with a lot of legal mumbo jumbo. "What is all that?" he asked, trying to decipher the legalese.

"This is a request to turn you into an emancipated adult. Since Sirius was your godfather, he asked me to prepare this in case of his death. You only have to sign it, and I'll put it through the system. In about a week, you'll be an adult in the eyes of the Wizarding world."

"Sirius being an escaped convict wouldn't hamper this?" Harry asked, lifting the paper.

"Convicted? Of what? He was never judged, for any crime. He was simply thrown in Azkaban, no trial, no nothing. And if someone so much as peep about it, I'll have a nice case on my hands, even if I can't prove his innocence," she said, with a feral smile on her face. "This will not be the first time I'll win a case because the Ministry didn't think things through."

Harry almost started crying once again, but kept the tears in check. He stood up, picked his quill and signed the parchment, giving it back to her.

"Thank you, I'll have this ready by next week," she said, returning it to her briefcase. "This ends the gifts for now. I have to explain a few things, are you up for it?"

"Sure. Sorry I can't offer a cup of tea for you, but this isn't exactly my home, and my relatives aren't exactly easy to deal with," Harry said, smirking.

"I noticed, and I can deal with this … aberration as well, Sirius explained the situation around here quite thoroughly. That's why I didn't announce either my title or the reason for my visit, and why I asked to talk privately with you. But let me explain what we'll have in front of us for the next few days. First and foremost, the reading of Sirius' will will be performed at Gringotts, at a time of your convenience. You and Remus should be present for the reading. It's more a formality, in it you will be given the Black's vault key, so I don't expect any troubles."

"Should there be any?" Harry asked, curious.

"Not that I'm aware of. The Black's family lawyer might make some noise, but he doesn't have any legal grounds to stand on, so I don't believe he will even appear. Other thing is that I've been ordered to find an Occlumens teacher for you, the best money could buy. I did, and she put herself at your convenience. She is from America and sworn to secrecy. I don't know the reason for you to need one, nor do I want to."

"Thank you, me and my actual 'professor' had a bit of a disagreement," Harry said. "Anything else?"

"The matter of you relatives. I can call Child Protection Services on them, from what I've seen so far and what Sirius told me, and believe me, I want to," Imogen said, slightly angered.

"Don't do that. Not that I don't want to, I do, but the matter is more complicated than that."

"Care to explain?"

And Harry did. He explained about his link to Voldemort, the blood protection, and how Dudley had opened up and made some peace with him. And the threats made by Moody on the platform, which were keeping Vernon under control for the time being.

"So, there isn't much that you can do about it, is there?"

"If you want to, I can have them arrested before nightfall, but I must admit that the complications are indeed harsh. But I can always threaten them a little bit more, so your uncle and aunt remain in check until the summer is through."

"That would be nice. I guess that uncle Vernon will have a stroke before you finish, but if it will keep them in check, I'm all for it."

"That's good. And that, Mr. Potter, ends my job as Sirius lawyer. From now on, if you want to, I'll be _your_ lawyer."

"I'd like to," he said, extending his hand and smiling. She shook the offered hand, smiling as well. "But if you're going to stay as my lawyer, I have to warn you about a few things."

"Go ahead," she said.

"First, I'm Harry. Just Harry. Nothing of this Mr. Potter stuff, okay?"

"Sure . . . Harry. And I'm Imogen. Sirius used to call me Immie, just to annoy me, but I've grown fond of the nickname."

"Okay, Immie. Two, because of my connection with Voldemort, I'm a target, more than anyone else nowadays. Being at my side is a risky business, if I sneeze too strongly I will probably be assaulted by a ton of Death Eaters, sixteen Dementors and a crazy Ministry official. You up for it?"

She thought it over for a moment. "Sure. I failed a friend, I won't fail another. Besides, we are all targets on this war."

"Three, there is the matter of security. Since I'm a target, and because of … other reasons, when I do get out, I usually have an escort with me all the time. I just want you to be aware of it."

"No problem. I've dealt with important people before, and I know how a security detail works," she said.

"Four, what do you think about Albus Dumbledore?" Harry asked, point blank, and Imogen stopped for a while.

"I think he's as manipulative as Fudge is, only his intentions are better focused. But he has his own agenda, as we all do," she answered, frankly. "Why?"

"You're the first of a very large group of people that talks of him like that. Why?" he asked again.

"Once you are deeply entrenched in the wizarding world and in Ministry issues, you start paying attention to who the real powers are behind the curtains. Dumbledore is one of those powers, Fudge and his lackeys is another, and Malfoy and by extension Voldemort is the other. Biggest problem is that Fudge is as corrupt as they come, and Malfoy has pretty deep pockets."

"Interesting. With things as they are, who do you think will win this war?" Harry asked. It was refreshing to talk with someone who didn't speak of the 'greater good' or some similar nonsense. Wars were fought in many fronts, as he was learning.

"Right now, I guess that Voldemort has the biggest chance. He has a big foothold in the old pureblood families, and the old money speaks pretty loud in our world. Fudge is scared to do something that will lose his supporters and his chance at a reelection. And Lucius and the others are the ones who finance his campaign. And to a good part of the Ministry, the 'purebloods must rule' rubbish that Voldemort speaks has a lot of strength, even if they will never say it out loud."

"Funny you should say that, because Voldemort is a half-blood himself," Harry said, to a slack-jawed Imogen.

"Are you sure?" she asked, surprised.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle. He rearranged the letters to form I Am Lord Voldemort. Check his background. His mother was a witch and his father was a muggle. He spent his childhood in an orphanage."

"Who knows that information? Why it wasn't released to the public? Voldemort would lose almost all of his followers if they knew that."

"I don't know who else knows, but I know that Dumbledore does," Harry said, slightly angered.

"I'm noticing that you don't like Dumbledore that much as well," Imogen said, noticing the reaction.

"We had a big fight before the term ended, and I'm not sure if I trust him that much nowadays. I know that his intentions are good, and we have the same enemy to face, but I've been lied to for my entire life, even by people that I though I trusted. It's not a good thing to know," he said, sadly.

"I can only imagine, Harry. So, since you told me you will need to face Voldemort eventually, what do you want me to do?"

Harry smiled, and started laying his cards on the table.

* * *

They talked for the best part of another couple of hours, after which Harry escorted Imogen downstairs, he sporting a huge grin in his face, and she a predatorial grin mostly found in jungle cats ready to strike at their prey. They ended up finding a sour-looking Petunia sitting on a chair, flipping over a magazine. She stood up as soon as she saw them.

"Why did it take so long?" she asked, point blank, right in the face of Imogen. Not a very smart thing to do.

"Since I'm Mr. Potter's lawyer, I can't speak of any of the matters discussed between me and my client. But I'll be returning later tonight to speak with you and your husband regarding some issues concerning my client. It would be better if the two of you should be present," Imogen said in a clipped and controlled voice, extending another business card to Petunia. Turning back to Harry, she spoke in a much nicer voice. "Harry, I'll have some of the things you asked later tonight. Not all of them, but I guess you'll survive without them for another day or two. Is that okay?"

"Sure it is," he said, opening the front door. He smirked, noticing the purple color of his aunt. "I'll see you later, Immie. Thanks for your help."

"No problem. I'll be back later. Ta," she said, and walked out.

"What was . . . _who was that_?" aunt Petunia screamed after the door was locked.

"My lawyer," Harry said, climbing the stairs. "She'll be back tonight to speak with you and uncle Vernon."

Harry walked back to his room and waited. Ten seconds after he sat on his bed, his aunt entered the room like a tornado.

"_I demand an explanation!_" she screamed.

"You heard, she is my lawyer. She came here to discuss some legal issues concerning me. And that's it. The rest you will learn tonight," he said, calmly.

"I want to know what you spoke with that woman," she said, approaching menacingly. She was not a physical person, that was more the thing of uncle Vernon, but Harry guessed that if she was incensed enough, she would indeed get violent physically.

"I don't have to tell you _squat,_" Harry screamed the last word. "You and that imbecile you call a husband ignored me for all these years, you can hold for a few more hours. Then you will know," he said, with a menacing look on his face.

Petunia huffed, still red as a tomato, but even she knew when a battle was lost. She turned on her heels and scampered downstairs. Harry grinned.

A few moments later, Dudley appeared on his doorstep.

"What was that?" he asked, to a laid-down Harry.

"Nothing that concerns you for now, Dud. I just had an interesting chat with my lawyer," Harry said, smirking. Dudley went white.

"My parents are in trouble, aren't they?"

"Man shall reap that which he hast sown, Dudley. But don't worry, for now it is just a bit more security for me, and a guarantee that your folks will walk on the straight and narrow with me for the rest of my time here. And who knows, you might end up benefiting from it if you ever decide to tell them."

The color returned to the huge young man's face. Harry noticed that even if he was still huge for a boy of his age, he was actually smaller than the last time he had seen him the previous year.

"Hey, you've lost weight, haven't you?" Harry asked, surprising his cousin. He entered the room, smiling.

"Yes, training. My coach told me that I could fare better if I traded fat for muscles, so I got on a diet, a correct one this time," Dudley said, sitting down on the chair.

They spent another hour talking normal things, trying to mend the huge gap which separated them for a lifetime.


	3. Owls and Threats

Chapter 3 – Owls and Threats

It came as no surprise really. Harry was reading the first of Sirius' diary, the one which explained the animagus transformation. So far, it had explained how the magic worked, and what to expect from the transformation. Sirius being the writer, it was filled with comments and funny parts, even reminiscing of the time together with Harry's father and the rest of the Marauders.

That's when he heard the heavy footsteps on the stairs. He calmly laid the book down on the floor, on the side of the bed away from the door, and waited patiently. Not five seconds later, the brutish form of his uncle entered the room, not even having discarded the hat and coat he always used when going to work. He grabbed Harry by the lapels of his overtly big shirt and slammed him to the nearest wall.

"_What did that woman…" _he started, Harry noticing that he was an amazing shade of purple.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, uncle Vernon," he said in a surprisingly calm voice. "I've learned of a thing called Child Protection Services."

That acted almost like a repellent. Vernon let Harry go, but kept clenching and un-clenching his fists, ready to hit anything.

"They won't protect a _freak_ like you," Vernon said, growing even more purple.

"To them I'm not a freak, uncle. I'm just a child who has been abused by his relatives. And that makes _you_ the freak," Harry replied, still in a calm voice.

Vernon lifted his fist, and readied it to knock Harry's smirk off his face once and for all.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Vernon Dursley," another voice said, this time from the door. Vernon turned quickly, hand dropping in the process. "Unlike my client here, I have no restrictions on using this," Imogen said, reddening with anger, wand pointed at Harry's uncle.

"You're one of _them_…" Vernon sputtered.

"Human beings? Oh yes, I am, and proudly so. Quite different from a bigot like you," the lawyer said. "Now, if you can control your temper for the time being, I would like to go downstairs and talk with you and your wife, plus my client here. If you can't, I'll do one thing that I've never done before, and disrespect one of my client's wishes, and call both the police and the Social Services. Believe me, I'll make it as noisy and spectacular as I possibly can, perhaps even invite a few friends of mine from the press."

Harry had never seen a person change colors so fast. Vernon went from heart attack purple to a pasty white in less than a second. Nothing troubled the man more than disturbing their false pretense's of perfection.

"Y-you wouldn't…" he stammered.

"Try me, Mr. Dursley. Now, if we could please adjourn to the living room?" she said, and the man passed her, grinding his teeth and sputtering the entire way.

"Do you perchance have on hand the telephone number of an ambulance service?" Harry muttered, when he passed by her.

"Why?" she asked, in a low tone as well.

"I reckon that the stroke I mentioned before is closer than I at first believed," he smirked, and continued downstairs.

"Good," Imogen said, with a similar smirk.

After Vernon sat down in his favorite chair, with Petunia at his side, Imogen started to speak, still standing.

"My name is Imogen Cheatam, and I'm a lawyer, and I'm here defending the interests of my client, Harry James Potter. Mr. Potter here asked me, as his legal representative, to inform you, sir and madam, that some …_changes_ will happen in this household. These changes are non-negotiable, and if any of them are broken, it will trigger an instant call to Child Protection Services, the police, and the prosecution of you to the fullest extent of the law, both in the muggle, or if you prefer, the non-magical and the magical world."

"_After all we…_" Vernon started screaming, lifting himself from the chair.

"_Silencio,"_ Imogen intoned, wand aimed perfectly. When Vernon realized that he had been muted, he sat down, turning purple once again. Petunia jumped in front of him, screaming like a banshee. Another silencing charm, and the couple was looking like mimes, trying to convey their hatred through their motions.

A second later, the front door exploded, and Harry had his wand in hand. A dual scream of "_Stupefy" _was heard, one coming in the direction of Imogen, the other coming from Harry. The one from the door missed by a hair, Harry's didn't. The stupefied form of Nymphadora Tonks fell on the front door carpet.

"Ah, bugger," Harry said, shaking his head.

* * *

Harry sat Tonks on another chair, taking the wand of her hand, while the muted residents were part scared, part furious by the lack of a front door, and the visible display of magic. Imogen ennervate'd Tonks back to consciousness.

"Wotcher, Tonks," Harry said, with a grin.

The young auror jumped as soon as her brain was cognitive enough, but when she noticed a smiling Harry, she backed down on the chair and groaned.

"Wotcher, Harry," she murmured, her hair changing from a bright purple to a fiery red.

"A metamorphmagus, how curious," Imogen said. Tonks looked at her and scowled, Harry noticed and tried to disarm the possible situation.

"Sorry. Tonks, meet Imogen Cheatam, my lawyer. Immie, meet Nymphadora Tonks. An auror and a good friend of mine."

"You're Sirius cousin, aren't you? I remember him talking about you once. Nice to meet you," Imogen said, extending a hand.

Tonks shook the hand slightly, and then something clicked in her brain. "I remember you. I met you a long time ago in Sirius' Pad. It was only once, but we traded a few words."

"How did you look then?" Imogen asked.

"Like this," Tonks said, changing to her base, unmorphed form. Harry's jaw dropped. She was _gorgeous._

"Oh, yeah. I remember now. Why did you explode the door and try to knock me out?"

Tonks reddened, but to hide the blush she changed back to her usual appearance. "I saw the light from the curses and I thought Harry was being attacked. Sorry about that," she said and turned to the Dursleys, "and sorry about the door. I'll fix it in no time," she said, looking for her wand. Harry gave it back to her, smiling sheepishly.

"I guess your training is paying off. How are you?" the now blue-haired woman asked.

"I'll be okay now. Can we talk later? I have some things to say to you," Harry said.

"Sure, I'll be outside, it's my night. See you in a bit," she said. With a few incantations, she restored the door and put it back in place.

"Now…" Imogen said, after the door was locked behind Tonks, "as I was trying to say, I'm representing Mr. Potter here, and he asked for a few changes. They are not overtly big, nor will they disturb the peace of the household. I'm willing to remove the silencing charms, as long as we all remain calm and controlled as human beings we _all_ are."

With hasty nods of compliance from the couple, Imogen canceled the spell. Vernon tried to start again, but a quick flick of Imogen's wand cut him before he even started. He sat back down, fuming.

"Now, the changes: all the locks outside of Harry's door will be removed except the one originally from the door, which he will have the key of, he'll have full liberty of the house, he'll eat properly, and he'll have his own clothes. He'll have a cell phone, which is private and he'll pay the bill of such phone. He'll be allowed to study, to receive visitors respecting house hours and to send and receive owls. He'll clean and tidy his room, and he'll perform a few of the house chores,_ if_ they are not abusive. He already made a deal with you, Mr. Dursley, regarding a few of those issues, and he'll continue to respect this deal. One last thing, and this is paramount to the rest: he will be treated with respect and decency, he's a human being as you are, and he had no choice in the matter to be left here all these years. So, if you abuse him in any way, shape or form, I will go ahead and use all the tools at my disposal to make your life miserable. Are we clear, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley?"

Vernon fumed, but he had no choice. "Who will pay for all this extra expenses?" he asked. When he looked to Imogen, he noticed it was the _wrong _thing to ask.

"Don't worry, Mr. Potter here is perfectly willing to pay for all the extras I've named, but I don't guess it will be much of a strain, considering you've been receiving a monthly stipend to take _good care_ of him?"

Harry's mouth fell down and Vernon and Petunia blanched. "What?" the young wizard asked.

"It is incredible what a few good questions in the right places can uncover in just a few hours, don't you think?" Imogen's feral smile was scary. "Apparently, your money paid for this house, your uncle's car and quite a few of Dudley's presents during those last fifteen years."

"_What?_" Harry seethed, and turned to his relatives, wand at ready. He started cataloging curses to use, even a few Unforgivables, while they blanched more and more, but a calming hand on his arm made him stop for a moment.

"They are not worth it, Harry. It will only cause trouble for you. I can deal with this, legally. Don't worry," Imogen said, her face reflecting both calmness and a steel resolution to solve the problem.

"Do you mean I was treated like _garbage_ while they feasted on _my_ parent's money?" Harry asked, tears of anger on his eyes.

"Yes," she said simply.

Harry turned to his relatives, and suddenly, all of his outside reactions ended. He stopped trembling, and his eyes hardened. The room suddenly chilled, windows frosted, the breaths started giving away puffs of vapor, as if they were being attacked by a hundred dementors.

"You better start looking for another house, another car, another place to live far away from me, because next year, as soon as I'm of age, I'm going to blow this house, destroy the car and burn what's left. You may take your clothes and nothing else from here. If I see one speck of dust out of place next year, the consequences will be severe," Harry intoned, in a tone even more chilling than the temperature of the room.

As soon as he said that, the room regained the normal temperature, but Harry's demeanor didn't.

"_I won't be threatened in my house…_" Vernon started, and as soon as he said that, he was being lifted from his chair and slammed against the wall by a young man less than half his weight.

"_It is my house, you sorry excuse for a human being, paid with my money, left to me by my parents. I just won't kill you right now because I would lose everything I've gained these last few years,"_ Harry screamed, his magic allowing him to lift the huge man.

Vernon did the only thing he could, he pissed his pants.

Petunia in turn, fainted.

"I'll be back," Harry said to Imogen, and stormed out of the room, going out.

* * *

Tonks noticed the commotion, but kept her distance. Better keep things private like that – private. The yelling, however, was pretty clear, even at this distance. She saw Harry storming out of the house and going down the street almost running. She followed at a distance, worried about his reactions. When she saw him sitting in the only functional swing at the park, she relaxed slightly, until she heard a soft 'pop', signaling someone apparating nearby. Wand at ready, she waited hidden behind a tree, until the regal figure of Albus Dumbledore appeared.

"Ah, Nymphadora. May I inquire what happened?" he asked, checking Harry from a distance.

"Wotcher, Albus. And I've told you, it's Tonks. Harry and his relatives had a big fight, and he ran off to cool down a little. How did you know something happened?"

"The wards around the house warned me of the pulse of magic. I decided to come and check by myself. Is he all right?" the headmaster asked, worry clearly displayed in his face.

"Why don't you go ahead and ask him? I guess he would like to see you," she continued, turning to check on the boy she was in charge of. She might be clumsy, but no one could say that she was a slacker at her service.

"Then you guessed wrong, my dear Nymphadora. I'm probably the last person young Harry wants to see at this moment," he said, a hint of sadness displayed clearly.

Tonks decided on not asking the reason for their breach, but Harry needed someone. "What about Remus? I guess he would like to see him," she said. Albus simply pointed up, to the clear full moon above their heads. "Ah," she exclaimed. "Then who?"

He looked to her over his half-moon glasses, eyes twinkling. "I'm not exactly a good friend of his, Albus. What should I do?" she asked, nervously.

"I believe you will learn, Nymphadora, that Harry has you in some higher regard than you think. I believe you will fare pretty well with him. Just don't pressure him. Meanwhile, I should see what happened at his home."

"His house," Tonks corrected him.

"I beg your pardon?" Albus asked, curiously.

"His house. That place isn't his home, from what I could gather. But go ahead, I'll try to talk with him."

Albus nodded and left. Tonks took a deep breath and started walking in the direction of the Boy-Who-Lived.

* * *

Harry's mind was in such a great turmoil of emotions that he wasn't able to think on a single thing. Things changing from horrible to surprising, to less than horrible, to actually nice, and now they were back to horrible again. Right now, if a Death Eater appeared, Harry would ask for a moment of reprieve and point to number four, Privet Drive.

Damn, he wanted to do a _Crucio_ spell, sans wand, on both Vernon and Petunia Dursley.

"Harry?" called a calm voice a few feet in front of him. He lifted his wand to strike but promptly let it fall.

"I almost knocked you out again, Tonks," he said, in an empty voice. She shrugged, and came closer, tripping once. Harry didn't even blink with her clumsiness.

"You did right in there. I'm proud. Not really happy, but proud," she said, smiling weakly. "Can I sit down?"

Harry shrugged again, and she interpreted it as a yes. She conjured a chair and sat on it.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked.

"You heard?"

"I guess that Santa Claus heard it," she attempted some slight humor. When he didn't show any hint of it, she apologized.

"No problem," he said, not really caring. He remained silent for a few moments, and decided to open up a little. She wasn't any of his close friends, and she was probably unaware of a lot of the things that transpired between him and Dumbledore.

"Have you ever woke up feeling like a different person?" he asked, almost murmuring.

"You're asking me this?" she asked back, changing her hair color for effect.

"No, I mean inside. Have you ever woke up feeling . . . I don't know . . . not Tonks?"

She mused for a moment. "I don't think so. I mean, there are mornings I'm more in a Nymphadora mood, and there are the undercover jobs, of course, but no. I guess not. Why?"

"Because just some days, I would love to wake up not feeling like Harry Bloody Potter."

"Okay, Rick," she answered in a weird airhead voice.

"Rick?"

"Yeah, since you aren't Harry Potter, you can be Rick Kaplotnick, from London. Boring teenager full of zits and dreams of beautiful models and sports cars."

That managed to get a curt laugh out of Harry. "You're nuts."

"No, I'm not. My name is Tonks," she replied in the same voice. "Nuts is my older sister."

That got another laugh from him. But he soon got back the somber and pissed off look from before. "Can you believe the _gall_ of those _arseholes_?" he screamed.

"Harry, I didn't get the entire story, but I guess that things were pretty bad in that house," she replied, and in a bold move, grabbed both of his hands in hers. Harry made an initial move to remove them, but let them where they were. He sighed.

"I had a horrible childhood, Tonks, if you can call that childhood. I was treated worse than a house elf, and I lived in the _cupboard under the stairs_ until the day I got my Hogwarts letter. Can you imagine that? It was my dream. I was going to learn _magic_," he said, with some wonder on his voice. "Then I discovered that I was the bloody 'Boy-Who-Lived', and that I was famous. And then, all the crap started, people had all sorts of preconceptions about me, ranging from a big pureblood git to a fame seeking celebrity. Then I find out that the monster who killed my parents isn't dead. Then I do the 'good guy' crap and try to save a piece of rock, and in the process I almost end up bringing him back to life for the first time and killing my only friends. Then, I end up back in hell, living with _them._ I'm set up by a crazed house elf who wants to protect me by repeatedly putting me in trouble. I am thankfully kidnapped by my friends and end up knowing a right bastard by the name of Malfoy, which sets up another trap to bring his master back to life, almost killing the sister of my best friend. I had to face a huge basilisk, ended up being saved by Fawkes, made a full of hot air moron into an empty-headed moron and almost killed my friends in the process. And I end up back in _hell._ Hey, are you noticing a trend here somewhere?" he asked, humorlessly. Tonks remained silent, her own feelings held in check for the time being.

"Then," he continued, "I go back to Hogwarts, and I discover that a crazy murderer is behind me, and he's the same guy who betrayed my parents to Voldemort.. I end up almost condemning an innocent man to a Kiss, transforming my friends into werewolves or worse, killing them. Bugger, it IS a trend. It was actually my best year at Hogwarts. And then I get back to _hell._ This time, my relatives were scared of your cousin, and I actually had a better than average summer, not counting a useless enforced diet." Harry removed his hands delicately from Tonks, only to stand up and start pacing. "Then I go back to Hogwarts, almost die in a setup tournament, and end up seeing one of my friends dying and my enemy coming back to life. And I go back to _hell_. Then once again, I almost end up in Azkaban for defending myself, go back to Hogwarts, have to withstand a madwoman put there by the fucking Ministry with the objectives of discrediting me and putting all the troubles under the carpet, as if nothing had happened. Mind raping, blood quills and I finish my year in a trap, where my godfather is killed by a madwoman, and all of my friends are almost killed, again. And I discover that one of the people I trusted the most lied to me for almost fifteen years. And I end up back in _hell._"

He stopped, and grimaced. "And suddenly, yesterday, I woke up from a nightmare and spent the night thinking. In the morning, for the first time in my life, I asked something from my uncle. Simple things, only to be more aware of the things that were happening in our world. He didn't say no, and I thought 'huh?'. Then, I'm in my room, and my cousin, one of my main tormentors since I was old enough to walk, enters and starts talking to me, civilly. I end up finding some surprising things from him, and we try to bury the hatchet by trying to be friends. Then I meet Imogen, and I discover a lot of things that she can do for me, and how my life can be easier from now on. And later tonight, I end up discovering that I was indirectly financing the _hell _I live in. Can you imagine that?"

Tonks thought it over for a few seconds. "You want to know what I think?"

"Yes," Harry said, actually curious with the answer.

"I think you need to shag someone for a full week."

The answer was so absurd that Harry did the only thing possible.

He laughed.

And he kept on laughing for a good five minutes, until he managed to put himself back in control.

"I mean it," Tonks continued, with a smile on her face. "After all, life has screwed you over so many times that it must be time for some payback. Better it be on the same coin."

Harry laughed again, with the same enthusiasm of the first time, but for less time. His sides hurt too much to continue. "A-are you offering?" he asked, jokingly.

"Play your cards right and I might think about it," she answered, with a straight face. Harry sobered instantly and looked open-mouthed to her.

"I must be dreaming," he said, not believing her words.

"Come on, Harry, haven't you noticed?" the auror asked, standing up as well.

"Noticed what?" he asked dumbly.

"Harry, you're a gorgeous fellow, with a nice enough body, enough brains in said body to be worth talking to, with a great personality and a cool sense of humor. The girls and women fanning after you aren't exactly wrong, you know? And I'm not talking about the Boy-Who-Lived crap. Only problem I see right now is your age."

"I'll be an emancipated adult in about a week," his hormones answered for him. After he spoke that, he reddened worse than any Weasley ever had. "Sorry," he mumbled.

This time, Tonks was the one who laughed. "No problem, lover boy. Come on, let's get back, you need to deal with those idiots."

Harry held her shoulder. "Wait a moment, I have some things to ask you," he said, seriously this time.

"Sure, go ahead."

"Why didn't I receive a letter from the Ministry? Fudge hates my guts so much nowadays that that simple _stupefy_ would have sent me for a fifteen year stint in Azkaban, not to mention my little burst of magic of a few minutes ago."

"Things are so crazy at the Ministry nowadays that your use of magic probably went unnoticed. They look like a bunch of headless chickens. Only the aurors have some semblance of focus and organization, otherwise all You-Know-Who would have to do was to get in and sit in Fudge's chair. And probably the reinforcements that the headmaster did on the wards blocked the sensing of the spell. As for the burst, they don't have the ability to sense wandless magic, so you're safe."

"Good to know. Now, 'Sirius' Pad'?" Harry asked, curiously.

Tonks grinned. "Sirius had an apartment in Diagon Alley after he left school and had to fend for himself. I guess he still owned it when he…. Anyway, I think it still is the same way as he left it, it was a 'bachelor's wet dream', as he put it."

"I'd like to go there sometime," he said.

"I might escort you there. It is a nice place to deal with this lust of yours," she said, eyeing him with a hungry look.

"T-Tonks, I . . . I… well, I…" he tried.

Tonks laughed. "Don't worry Harry, I'm mostly pulling your shorts. Mostly," she said with a smile still planted on her face. "Come on, time for us to get back," she said, pushing his arm slightly.

They started walking slowly back. "Tonks, thank you," he said, in a clear voice. Before Tonks could answer, he stopped, watching a growing white speck in the sky. In a few moments, Hedwig was dropping his mail on his hands, while flying around him. "Thanks, Hedwig. Go catch some mice, I'll leave the window open," he said, and the owl flew away.

"She's a nice bird. But no thanks are needed. Just a bout of wild monkey sex is enough"

Harry smiled more openly now, but still blushed. "I have two more questions. One, would you train me?"

"For sex? No training needed, just intuition. You're either good at it, or you're not," she said. He blushed again, but shook his head.

"No, to fight. I'll need it, you know?"

"Sure, if I can find a good spot nearby," she said.

"Perhaps Ms. Figg's living room, we could clean it up and expand it a little. It would be perfect," Harry mused.

"That's okay, I'll talk with her. I'll even ask Moody to help as well, I guess he would be delighted in that gruff way of his."

Harry gulped. If half the stories about Moody were true, he was in for a world of pain.

"And one last thing. That form you showed to Immie?" he asked, curious.

"That? That's me, Nymphadora Tonks. No morphing."

"Tonks, you're gorgeous," he said, and this time, she blushed.

"Thank you. I don't use it that much, almost no one knows me like that, so it is a mask for when I want to walk around unnoticed, and it is pretty comfortable to be, after all, it's me," she said, smiling.

"I can understand. Too bad I can't be a metamorphmagus," he said, sullen.

"I think I can help you a bit. We had a class in auror training about muggle disguise, in situations where we couldn't use glamour spells to disguise ourselves. I attended it so I could make more convincing morphings. Hide your scar, change your eye color using contact tenses . . ."

"Lenses. Contact lenses," he corrected her.

"That one, change the way you dress and you could stand in front of Hermione for half an hour and she wouldn't think it is you."

"That might be useful," Harry said, mind alight with possibilities.

"It is," the auror and member of the Order of the Phoenix stopped. "We're here. You want me to come in with you?"

"No, I have to deal with them myself," he sighed, eyeing the house and finally noticing the car parked in front. "Could you do me a favor before I go in?" he asked, with an evil smile on his face.

She nodded, and he told her his idea.

* * *

Once he entered the house smiling, he noticed a sour-looking Imogen, and the equally sour-looking Dursley couple.

"They give you much trouble?" Harry asked, looking at the crystal blue eyes, which at the moment looked stormy gray.

"No, they were silent, but Vernon went up to clean his soiled pants. I just had a small meeting with an interfering old headmaster of ours," she said, between gritted teeth.

Harry's smile disappeared as if it never were. "What did he want?"

"He was fishing for information. I told him it was none of his business, and he came with that 'a student's welfare is my business' speech, and I cut him down a peg or two. He asked for a meeting later this week, and I agreed."

"Why the meeting?" Harry asked, now suddenly guarded against her.

"To try and fish for more information, I believe, this time on his ground. But don't worry, I know how to deal with Mr. Order of Merlin First Class Albus Dumbledore. Been a while since I had a client as interesting as you, Harry," she said with a smile.

He replied the smile, and then looked to his relatives. "You talked to them?" he asked Immie, but kept looking to them.

"No, I was waiting for your return," she said.

"Okay, can I change the value of the stipend for them?"

"No, but what you can do is change the value distributed between the beneficiaries. Part of the money has always been yours, and it is automatically deposited in your vault at Gringotts, the rest goes to them. There is a clause in the contract which allows you to modify this value at will, but not over a certain stipulated value."

"Okay, how much is it?"

"About two hundred galleons a month for them and eighty for you, you can change this to a hundred forty galleons to you and another hundred forty to them," Imogen said.

"Can I cancel the contract?" Harry asked.

"If the person who set it up agrees to it, yes, you can," Immie said, and grimaced.

"Who set it?" he asked her and looked to her face. "Let me guess, Dumbledore."

"Yes," she answered back, still grimacing.

"Do the change, then, I'll deal with the cancellation later," Harry said. He turned to the Dursleys and said, in a calm voice. "I'm throwing the rules out the window you pair of bastards. Next week, I'll be a full wizard in the eyes of the law, and I'll do whatever I want inside this house. Don't worry, I won't blow it up, I still need a safe haven away from school during the summer. But if I hear a peep from either of you, I will start getting payment from fifteen years of abuse from your skins. You got me?"

"You can't threaten us," Petunia said, eyes roving between Imogen and him.

"Ooh but I can, _aunt_. You made your own bed, and so did this aberration you call a husband. Now, have the decency of lying in it."

"You won't kill them, will you?" Imogen asked slightly worried, which made Petunia and Vernon relax somewhat.

"No, I won't. But I can come close," he said, to which the couple blanched.

"Good. I hate having to hide bodies," Immie said, face hard.

To this, both Vernon and Petunia fainted.


	4. I Hate Parchment

Chapter 4 – I Hate Parchment

Hermione was sitting on the windowsill of her room, looking out at the beautiful summer night outside. There wasn't a single cloud in sight for miles, and the slight breeze kept things interestingly cool. She had her diary resting on her lap and a pen in the other hand, but so far she hadn't written a single sentence on it. It was an ordinary diary, with a light blue cover, bought in a muggle shop like four others exactly the same, now resting on one of her bookshelves. It was an absolute secret of hers, only her mother knew, and she was good enough to not go peeking.

In them, there were four years of Hermione Jane Granger, not the smartest witch in school, but of Hermione, teenager, friend of Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. Her feelings, her shortcomings, her messes - yeah, she had them - and her thoughts about just about everything. She cherished the times during vacation where she took a moment to write her memories, and to remember the year that passed.

But right now, her only thoughts were directed to her best friend, a man whose destiny was intrinsically mixed with the worst dark wizard who ever lived.

Hermione stretched a bit, her muscles protesting with the remainder pain of the curse. She didn't even had a scar to show, but Madam Pomfrey had warned her that some muscles had been severely affected, and it would take some time till they healed properly. She walked away from the sill and deposited the diary back on her table, she was still too shook up to even try to write. Her homework was also waiting for her attention, a neat pile with the obligatory quill and ink pot waiting on top.

She huffed, and grabbed the folded piece of parchment that Hedwig had delivered the previous night. Parchment, it was so ridiculous. During her first year at Hogwarts, the witch thought it was incredible, it had such a novelty to write on it and using a quill to do so, but as time passed, the novelty ended, and nowadays she hated using the writing implements. If she wasn't such a stickler to rules, she would take a year's supply of notebooks and pens to Hogwarts, only to prove to the insular Wizarding World that the muggles did something way better than them.

She had already decorated what was written on it, but she re-read it anyway, trying to see if she could figure Harry's frame of mind when he wrote it.

_Dear Hermione,_

_First, let me start this by saying I'm sorry. Sorry because I almost got you killed at the Ministry. I know it wasn't my fault, I had some time to think about it, and I know I couldn't hold any of you back if I tried. But anyway, I must say, I am sorry to have involved you._

"Harry, you silly prat," Hermione said to the air, "I would have gone anyway. That's what friends are for, rules or no."

_Second, I need to tell you something, but it has to be in person, it is too dangerous to do so otherwise. I would like to meet you as soon as possible and since I can't leave here, I had a small chat with my relatives and they agreed that I could be visited by some friends, front door, no magic inside, so I would like it to be before we go to either hideout._

Harry was smart, he was keeping important information out of the letter, like addresses or names.

_So, if you could set something up, please answer me as soon as you possibly can. I'm sending Hedwig on a few errands, and she'll pick up any reply you might have when she gets back._

She had actually smiled, in two days time she would be visiting him, thanks to her parents.

_One last thing, I need your unsurpassed research skills and the brain of the cleverest witch ever for a job:_

"That's laying it on thick, Harry," she laughed again, as she always did when reading the last part.

_I need to know how to be an effective fighter in this war. I know you'll complain, I know you'll want me to leave this to the adults, I know you'll say it is too dangerous, and if it weren't for circumstances that I'll explain as soon as I see you, I would most definitely agree with you. Yet, I need to know how to fight, Hermione, and I need to know yesterday._

_I know that you are away from Hogwarts, and I know that your research capabilities are severely limited while outside of the library, but if you could try, I'd be thankful. And if you could think on how to improve our chances using muggle ways, that would be brilliant, as well._

And that, Hermione thought, was the big crux of the matter. Basically what Harry wanted was to be an active participant in the war. It didn't matter if he didn't want trouble, trouble had a way of finding him, and dragging everyone around him together for the showdown, either willing or not. And now, he wanted to _go out_ and look for trouble.

It didn't matter that this wasn't said anywhere in the letter, but what Hermione knew better than anyone else was how Harry thought. And the next part of the letter was more than enough proof of that.

_I miss him, Mione. I keep on wondering if I paid more attention to you, if he would still be alive, if I had trained in Occlumency better, if he would still be alive. There are so many ifs, and all that I can think now is that he's dead, and that somehow I'm partially responsible._

_I know what you'll say, that Bellatrix is the one responsible, that Tom is also responsible, and I agree with you, but somewhere along the line it is my fault as well. And I don't know how I'll keep on going, Hermione._

"With help, my friend. Mine, and others," she answered with teary eyes.

_Don't worry, I don't intend to do anything harsh, or stupid. I know what acting instead of thinking ended up doing for me, so I'll start thinking pretty thoroughly and planning before doing something even remotely like that again. But one brain is not enough, so I'm requiring the extra power of the biggest one that I know, meaning yours._

_So, think about what I said, and send your reply with Hedwig._

_With love from your friend,_

_H.P._

_P.S.: Even if you are a stickler for rules, please don't tell anything I said to Dumbledore, I'll explain the why when we meet._

Hermione folded the parchment once again. Not telling Dumbledore anything was against what she believed at the moment, but another thing weighed on her mind, the way that Dumbledore had kept away from Harry almost the entire last year.

This was too confusing, even to her. She had to take a few decisions, and even with her prodigious brain, she was at a loss on what to do. So, she stood up and decided to talk with the only people she was positively sure were smarter than she was.

She walked to the living room, her bare feet making no noise on the wooden floor. The couple sitting on the sofa was watching the TV with the sound really low, as it was their habit.

"Mum, Dad?" she asked, and both heads turned to her, smiling. She smiled back, and stopped, looking awkwardly at them. "Can we talk?"

"Sure, Nee," her father, Joel Granger, said, and it was followed by a nod from her mother. She sat on an armchair to their side, and Joel promptly muted the TV.

"You haven't called me Nee for a while, dad," she said, sheepishly. Since the Hogwarts letter, to be honest, she thought.

"No? I must be getting old, then. You'll always be my Nee, darling," he said, with a slight smile. Hermione blushed and looked down to her feet.

"You're embarrassing her, honey. What do you want to talk with us, Hermione?" her mother, Angela, asked.

"I have to tell you quite a lot of things so you can understand, but I need you to pay attention and ask questions when I'm finished. Okay?"

With both nods, Hermione started relating her years at Hogwarts, all of it, and not only her exceptional grades and the lighter troubles had she, Ron and Harry ended up with. She finished with the attack on the Department of Mysteries, her injury and a brief description of Harry's letter.

"So, let me see if I understand this correctly. The Wizarding World is at war, the bad guy has a vendetta for my daughter's best friend, and no one seems to be doing a thing to stop him. Is this right?" Joel asked, after she finished.

"More or less, dad. There are people fighting Voldemort in the background, but the ones who should be officially fighting in the front lines have their heads so stuck up in the sand that when they end up removing the sand from their ears the world will be a huge Death Eaters Convention," she said, something akin to sarcasm present in her voice.

"And why does Harry want to fight?" her mother asked in a small voice, still white with fright.

"I don't think he _wants_ to, mum, I think he needs to, but doesn't want to. Not really. Am I making sense?" she said, and received two negative shakes from her parents. "What Harry always wanted was to be normal mum, and only worry about normal things like homework, Quidditch results and who to kiss on his first date. Instead, he has to face Basilisks, dragons, crazy people who want him dead, crazy people who want to prove that _he _is crazy, and all sorts of things."

"And how did you end up helping him? You could be killed, you know?" her father said, angered.

"Please, dad, don't do that. He's my best friend, I couldn't abandon him even if I tried. It would be like… like you abandoning mum if she was in danger," Hermione said, teary-eyed. Joel jumped from his seat and grabbed her in a tight hug, apologizing as he did it, and she started crying on his shoulder. After a few minutes, she stopped, and sniffed. "Worse thing is, he doesn't have anyone to do that to him," she said, while slowly separating from her father.

"What do you mean? You told us that his parents are dead, but surely his relatives . . . " Angela started.

"Aren't worthy of being called _people._ Do you know what he does when I hug him, mum?" she asked, angered.

Angela shrugged. "He hugs back?"

"He _stiffens_, mum. I guess me and Mrs. Weasley were the first people to hug him, ever. He doesn't know what to do."

Angela's look was one that Hermione wasn't accustomed to at all. She was lucky enough to have loving and understanding parents on both sides, who treated her with respect and love. But seeing her mother downright angry was a first to her.

"I'm coming with you when you'll go visit Harry, Hermione," was all that she said.

"Mom . . ." she said, worried.

"Don't worry, I just want to . . . talk . . . with those relatives of his, alright?" and the question was made in a tone that bode no other answer than a whispered yes.

Angela's face relaxed a bit and her father started again. "I know you'll stand by his side, honey, and I didn't raise my daughter to be any different, I just worry as a father does his only child. But I need to know a few things, and I hope you'll answer me as best as you can."

"Sure, dad. Always," she smiled slightly.

"Okay, has anyone ever spoken to Harry about what happened to him during all this years?"

"We all did. Me, Ron, Mrs. Weasley, the professors, I guess we all did. At least all the ones who cared about him one way or the other," Hermione answered.

"That's good, hon, but I guess I didn't make myself clear. Has anyone talked with him _objectively_ about what has been happening?"

Hermione looked to her father. "I guess not. You mean professional help, don't you?"

"More or less. You see, sometimes, love and emotions do get in the way of such subjects. When someone has real parents who love them as we do you, we try to screen things from you, and explain what we can, until we know that you are ready to face them on your own. You were raised like that, Ron, I believe, was raised like that, and the rest are adults which have their own grasp and feelings on how to deal with situations. So, when you do speak to Harry, you do pass judgment, whether you want it or not. They all do, in a sense. It is normal to everyone else, but I believe that to Harry, this is exactly what he _doesn't_ want. What he needs is someone to listen and to try to make him see with his own eyes if what he did, does, or will be doing is right or wrong. That's why I think he needs some professional help."

"But Harry isn't _crazy_, dad!" Hermione said, standing up. Joel grabbed her shoulders and looked her daughter in the eyes.

"I never said he was, Hermione, and I don't think he is. But from what you've told us, he was in a bad place last year, and after what happened, I believe the situation is only getting worse. He might hide it from you, but deep inside he's probably falling into a deep depression, and that is never good. To someone with that much power, that's downright terrible."

"You think he'll hurt someone?"

"He will, most probably himself. From what you've told us, he has honor like I've seen in very few people, and a protection streak a mile long, so whatever thing he might end up doing, it will be worse to _him_."

"What do I do, then?"

"What _we_ do, honey, is help him out," Angela said, a slight twinkle in her eyes. Joel looked to his wife and asked "Alex?"

"Alex," Angela confirmed.

Hermione looked between both of them. "What does uncle Alex has to do with anything?"

"Do you know what your uncle Alex does and did for a living?" her father asked.

Hermione had last seen the man on her tenth birthday, before she went to Hogwarts. He was a funny man, big and muscular, but his strangest characteristic was a white eye patch on his left eye, which gave him a mysterious air. And her aunt Helena was also a great person, they had married not long ago, she was a Native American from what she remembered, and they met on one of his travels around the world. But that was as far as she knew the man.

"No, I don't. I believe I heard mum once saying that he's a doctor working in London, right?"

"That's what he does nowadays, he's a psychologist specialized in PTSD, the one thing I think Harry is suffering from," Joel said.

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder," Hermione said, her incredible brain correlating all the information she had on the subject.

"Exactly, and I don't think your Wizarding World has much experience on this one," Joel continued.

"I don't believe they even have psychologists. One problem of being too insulated from the muggle world, they think all can be solved by a potion or a spell. But you said that this is what he does _nowadays_. What did he do before that?"

"He worked for the military," Angela said.

"What your mother is trying to say is that my brother used to be a lieutenant in the SAS, Hermione. That's how he lost his eye and had to retire from active duty."

Hermione, for one of the very few times in her life, was rendered speechless.

"That's how he specialized in PTSD, he saw it happening too many times, and when he was discharged, he decided to help his fellow companions to get back from the pit that this disorder causes. And I believe he'll be perfect to talk to Harry, he knows what he's going through."

"But the magic. . ."

"He has known since you were eleven, Hermione. Who do you think helped us pay to send you to Hogwarts?" her mother asked.

"But I always thought that. . ."

"Nee, we are well off from our practice, but not _that_ well off. And he, as your godfather, wanted the best for you, as we did," her mom said.

"Why was I never told?" she asked, suddenly slightly angered.

"He asked us not to. He wasn't always there, but it was a way to help you to be as best as you could possibly be. And I believe that you did him extremely proud so far, and us as well."

Hermione blushed slightly.

"And you know," Angela continued," I believe that your aunt Helena will be pretty useful as well," she mused.

"Why?"

Angela grinned. "She's what we call an esoteric therapist. She has a lot of knowledge of what us . . . what is that term again? The non-magic humans?"

"Muggles," Hermione said, paying even more attention to her mother.

"Right, muggles. What us muggles think of as real magic. She's a Native American, as you know, right?"

"Yes."

"What you don't know is that she's an Iroquois Healer, a medicine woman. She knows all about her people's heritage in healing, and she decided to expand and mix things, so she could deal with body, mind and soul. From what I know, she's actually quite known in the esoteric circles," Angela said.

"So, what does she know?" Hermione asked, her curiosity peaked. Joel laughed, he knew what would get his daughter's attention.

"She's a yoga master, she knows Tai-Chi-Chuan, acupuncture and another thing called reiki. And a few other things that she told me she does for 'fun'. Plus whatever is that she knows as a healer of her people," Angela said. To Hermione surprised look, she answered the unasked question. "You do stay away most of the year, Hermione, and they are quite good friends to go out and talk. I believe your godfather would like very much to visit while you were at home, and I think they would be delighted in meeting a few wizards as well."

"This would be great, might be the thing Harry needs, some balance in his life," Hermione said, a huge smile on her face. "Thanks, mum. Thanks, dad," she said, and bolted upstairs, to research how she could help Harry.

Downstairs, two people looked to one another, their smiles vanishing.

* * *

"Can you believe that?" Joel asked, sitting back down.

"Hermione never lied to us, Joel. She hid a lot of things, and I believe that she did because she would be scared of us not letting her back to Hogwarts."

"I'm thinking about doing just that, Ang."

"Let's not do that, honey."

"Why not?" he asked, curious.

"Can you imagine what would happen if we took Hermione out of Hogwarts?"

"There should be other schools of magic around Europe, and with Hermione's scores, I think she could get a scholarship into any of them," Joel said.

"That's not solving the problem, it's just postponing it. Do you think this war will stay only in England? If this Voldemort is as dangerous as Hermione says, the other schools are in even more danger than Hogwarts is."

"But the other schools don't have the two main enemies of Voldemort, Dumbledore and Harry."

"And that's why I want to keep her where she is, even if hurts me to do so. Did you pay any attention to what she said?"

"Yes, I did. Voldemort is a lunatic, and Harry has been facing him for five years in a row, putting everyone around them in danger," Joel said, condensing the facts as only a parent would.

"And he's still alive, and because of him, our daughter is still alive as well. Hon, when she put herself at his side, she made a target of herself as big as possible. If we take her away from the people who can protect her, what chance will she have?"

Joel remained silent.

"And one other thing, did you notice how she talked about Harry?"

"As a good friend? I know that," Joel said.

"It's more than that, Joel. They are best friends, and they have been through hell together. This forms a bond stronger than blood, and I believe one would die for the other with no second thoughts and no regrets. Besides, I think she's falling for him," Angela said, smiling slightly.

Joel's mouth opened in a soundless 'o'.

"I don't think that she even realized it, but the feeling is there. And even if it wasn't, splitting them would kill _her,_ because she would never let him go without a fight."

"So, what do we do?" Joel asked.

"We do what's right to everybody, even if it is against what we think is right to our daughter. We help her help Harry, and we offer all the help we can so that they can protect each other from that madman."

Joel stood up, and started walking from one side of the room to the other. After a few minutes, he stopped and looked to his wife.

"I always knew from whom Hermione had inherited her genius. Who's going to call Alex?"

"I think it's better if it's you. Who better to explain to his own brother that he's about to heal and train magical teenagers to be warriors?"


	5. Wicked Sister Number One

Chapter 5 – Wicked Sister #1

It was another room, this one had no apparent walls, no ground to stand, no ceiling, but somehow Harry knew it was a room. It was pitch black, but the darkness wasn't oppressive. He felt warm, cared for, and in an act of pure reflex, smiled. He started walking, looking everywhere for any sign of an exit. After some minutes, he saw a small pinpoint of light pierce the darkness, and started walking towards it.

As he approached, Harry noticed that the light came from an object floating on nothing but air. It was a large piece of parchment, as yet unwritten, and the glow was coming from it, denoting some heavy charms bound to the paper.

Suddenly, from the darkness surrounding him, a huge black dog approached running.

Sirius.

He transformed back to human near the paper. Harry ran, trying to grab him in a strong hug, but his hands passed through him. He then he tried to call, to scream, but no words came from his mouth.

As Harry started to cry, a powerful magical sound cut through the blackness of his own emotions. A phoenix appeared in a circle of fire, flying over their heads.

Fawkes.

Sirius looked up and smiled, nodding slightly. Fawkes let a feather fall from her tail, and it landed precisely on Sirius' right hand. He opened his left hand, and with the sharp tip of the quill, he opened a thick gash on his hand, drawing blood. When the blood pooled enough on the palm, he wetted the tip on it and started writing on the parchment. He wrote a few letters, but as he was writing, he started vanishing, going transparent with each passing moment. After a few seconds, he disappeared entirely, letting the quill drop to the parchment.

Harry screamed, his voice finally returning. "SIRIUUUUUSS!"

Fawkes started singing, Harry's despair and fear dispersing quickly, and he felt himself waking up to the real world. Before the dreamscape vanished entirely, he managed to read what Sirius had written on the parchment.

'_I hereby swear my pledge to the Light. . .'_

* * *

Harry woke up in a tangled mess, his covers and pillow, plus his own pajamas were so mixed up together that he almost used magic to free himself. Calming down from the still vivid dream, he looked to the window and the light coming from the rising sun outside. At least the nightmare came pretty early in the morning, and not in the middle of the night.

The young wizard stopped to review his own thoughts. This last one wasn't exactly a nightmare, it seemed almost as a vision, the parchment being a clue to something.

"I hereby swear my pledge to the Light. . ._"_ Harry repeated in a murmur, and he had the distinct impression that he heard Fawkes singing somewhere.

That was odd all on itself. He should be feeling worse since Sirius' death, but somehow the events of the last couple days were acting as some sort of buffer to the feeling of loss. Harry sighed, and suddenly remembered that he had fallen down on the bed and gone to sleep, victim of last night's 'family moments' without even opening the letters Hedwig had brought.

He picked up the pile from the ground, and opened the first one, the reply from the Weasley twins. It was written in good quality parchment, the three W from the logo clearly on display on the right uppermost corner. But all the class had only two lines:

_We're on it._

_F&G._

The simple answer brought a smile to Harry's face. It was quite serious, very different from Fred and George usual manners, but it meant that he had placed his trust in the right persons, perhaps for the first time in his life.

He actually squashed the thought, he had placed his trust in a lot of people, and so far the only one to truly betray it had been Dumbledore himself. The old headmaster might actually have been right, but he did something inexcusable, he took the decision of the person most affected by such decisions, Harry himself.

Shaking his head, he picked up another letter, this one from Ron. Expecting another letter filled with Quidditch and the upcoming time to pick him up, he was actually surprised with it.

_Dear brother Harry,_

_I actually surprised you with this, didn't I? But there it is, I said it, I think you are my brother in every single way that counts. This last month served to prove me that, so I just read the first paragraph of that long winded stupid excuse that you called a letter for something completely out of your control. I went because I wanted to._

_Harry, I would follow you to hell and back if you asked me. Bugger, I will follow you to Hell even if you don't want to, and let me tell you something, knowing Voldemort and his cronies it won't be the last time, or the worse that we'll face._

_And yes, Harry, I'll pound it in this thick skull of yours, we will face it together. All the time, all the way. And yes, I can say his name, and I can write his name. Heck, I've been practicing telling his name in front of the mirror. Mum thinks I've lost my marbles or something, and she threatened to remove the mirror and lock me in until I stopped._

_She actually didn't do it, and after a few hours, I gained an ally, Ginny._

_She stood there with me, and she started doing the same thing, calling him Voldemort, or Tom. And you know what else? She talked about her experiences regarding the diary and the Chamber. She cried, she screamed, but I guess that in the end she started healing, as for me, I stopped flinching, I stopped fearing and I started hating him._

_He made too many suffer, Harry, and that is something I want stopped as much as you do. So, let me point out a few things:_

_We all love you, mate, you're family, now and forever._

_I'm forever in debt to you for saving my sister's life in the Chamber._

_You'll always have a friend in me, and I'll always be at your side, no matter what._

_Tom is going to die, Harry, and I'll help you finish him._

_Sirius didn't die because of you, he died because Voldemort is a madman._

_Percy is a prat, he still hasn't talked with Mum or Dad, even after Voldie's little showdown at the Ministry._

_Just to prove that I haven't gone nuts or that someone else wrote this damned letter, you better prepare yourself for some serious training, I want to end this year handing the cup to McGonagall once again, and Dumbledore told us he's planning to keep you there the least time as possible._

_As for visiting, Mum and Dad are worried on us leaving home grounds for any reason, so don't expect much. Perhaps if you could sneak an invisibility cloak in your next letter, I believe that you could have some visitors sooner than you think._

Harry smiled, thinking on how to pack his cloak the next time.

_And I'm ending my part of the letter here, for some reason there is an annoying little sister wanting to have a few words with you as well, and she decided to 'borrow' my letter to you to do this._

_So, until the next time, take care,_

_Your brother, Ron._

_P.S.: It's actually nice having a brother with a different hair color, red is becoming boring around here._

Harry shed a tear of happiness over the letter, Ron was as thick as they came, but he had his moments of insight. Perhaps that brain creature had helped him in some way, because he would never expect a letter like this from him. Or perhaps he was growing up.

Harry laughed with the thought, and kept on reading, the hastily scribbled words giving place to a flowing calligraphy.

_Dear beloved brother,_

_Hi, Ginny here. As the big prat pointed out, all of us younger Weasleys consider you a brother, myself included. The older ones consider you a son, so there._

_With this, I must make another revelation and forgive me if I don't have the guts to tell you face to face._

_I love you, Harry. _

Harry's eyes goggled, and his heart started beating so fast he couldn't count the beatings.

_Don't go into a panic now, Harry, I will explain, and you are safe from me._

_I loved you as you are thinking right now since even before I met you. When you saved me in the Chamber, somehow the silly crush turned into something else, and I believe I can call it hero worship now. You may be our savior, but you saved **me** at that moment, Harry, and that was all that mattered. So, I kept on dwelling on this feeling for a long time, and last year I noticed something, that I cared more about you as someone that I could call a friend than someone I could call the love of my life._

_As you've read from Ron, I've finally talked with someone about what happened at the Chamber and I'm finally healing from the ordeal._

_Heck, in the shape things are, I'll miss our annual Voldemort face-off once we kick his arse once and for all._

That transformed the grin he was wearing into a face-splitting, tooth-eating brilliant smile.

_What I wanted to say is, I'm glad in being your friend and loving you as a sister loves a brother, if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, or a girlfriend (emphasis on the friend part) to discuss women problems, feel free to search for me._

_Besides, I think you'll need some help in the relationship department, you're as clumsy as my brother is._

_And I think that I can fit easily under that invisible cloak as well, so start packing the damn thing._

_So, I'll finish this multiple hands letter by pointing out the exact same things as Ron did (it bears repeating):_

_We all love you, Harry, you're family, now and forever._

_I'm forever in debt to you for saving my life in the Chamber._

_You'll always have a friend in me, and I'll always be at your side, no matter what._

_Tom is going to die, Harry, and I'll help you finish him._

_Sirius didn't die because of you, he died because Voldemort is a madman._

_Percy is a **huge** prat, he still hasn't talked with Mum or Dad, even after Voldie's little showdown at the Ministry._

_I love you, my dear brother. Take good care, and don't let the Dursleys bother you too much._

_With love, Ginny._

_P.S.: Differently from Ron, I did read the letter you sent to me, and I must point out something, if you ever excuse yourself to me for something that wasn't your fault, you'll have a taste of my patented Bat Bogey Hex, up close and personal._

Harry's grin grew even bigger, if it was even possible. The next one was the reply from Remus Lupin.

_Dear Harry,_

_Let me assure you, I don't blame you for Sirius' death, never did, never will. If anything, I guess we all share some of the blame, by not taking different actions in the past. But what is done is done, and unfortunately, not even the strongest wizard can bring someone back from the dead._

_I feel that I probably owe you an apology as well, since we've known each other I maintained my distance from you, and by doing that I think I am somehow betraying the trust that James and Lily put in me. This ends now, and I intend to make up for all the time we've been away. I don't want to take the place of Sirius, nothing of the sort, but I guess you need someone older to talk to, that is a role I intend to assume._

_So, I guess we'll meet right after the full moon, and don't worry, I know the muggle way to behave myself, Lily was a good teacher and a fair slave master on the subject._

_Until next time, your friend,_

_Moony_

Harry put the letter aside for a moment, smiling lightly on the obvious 'slave master' joke. Last one was Hermione's, and for some strange reason, his heart started beating faster when he unfolded the parchment.

Fear of a scolding, perhaps? Hers was the only one where he actually expanded something of his future plans, not that he didn't trust the others, but outside from Hogwarts and the limitations placed on them by circumstances, they were almost worthless during vacation. Hermione could use a computer and go to a muggle library with ease, and she knew about the muggle ways of making war. She might not be a specialist on the matter, but this had never stopped her before.

Acting on his famed Gryffindor courage, he started reading.

_Dear Harry,_

_Knowing you, and after five years of friendship I can safely say that I know you, I think you sent an apology to each and every one of our close friends, and knowing them and the facts as well, you have nothing to apologize for, as they most surely assured you. And I'm repeating them, I don't blame you as well. I got hurt by my own fault, I froze before I could do a thing, and for that **I** am sorry. I pride myself on being the smartest witch around, and when I need my knowledge, I end up failing both myself and you, and I keep on thinking that if I did not and if you didn't need to worry about me, Sirius would perhaps still be alive._

Harry became incensed. It wasn't her fault, she had done nothing wrong, freezing in a life or death combat situation wasn't uncommon, and she had never truly been in one of those.

_I know you're probably thinking it isn't my fault, and that I couldn't predict what would have happened, and you're probably right. But deep down, I think I have to share some of the blame, if someone is to blame from this, aside from Voldemort._

_As for the rest that you asked of me, of course I'll help, Harry, I'm your friend, and that's what friends do, they stick to each other, no matter what. We may fight eventually, but you'll never lose my friendship, ever._

_Having said that, I must point a thing out:_

_ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY NUTS?_

Harry flinched with the full caps words, actually hearing the shouting in them.

_Harry, we have enough problems without going out looking for trouble, and right now you're asking me to help you actively going to search for it? I know you've told me you have good reasons to do so, and I believe you, so I'll start something, but I want some explanations._

_You can give them to me personally this next Friday, since mom and dad agreed to let me go spend the day with you._

Harry smiled, but was assaulted by a sense of foreboding. He hoped that Hermione had calmed down until Friday, if not he was in for a world of trouble.

_And don't worry, I won't tell Dumbledore a thing, I want to know **exactly** what happened between the both of you after Sirius died before taking a decision. And before you think I'm a loudmouth, I am not, I just want to point that he is the strongest wizard we have on our side and he'll probably be the one to defeat Voldemort._

"How wrong you are, Mione. How unfortunately wrong . . ." Harry trailed off, thinking on the damned prophecy.

Before turning back to reading, he finally noticed the smell in the air. He cringed, but a smile creased his face. The sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs announced that the fun was about to start.

"_What did you do?"_ Vernon screamed, all ready to go to work, but in another amazing shade of purple.

"Did what, Uncle? I was here the entire night, besides I still can't do magic until next week. But I'm a call away from CPS," he said, hiding the smirk that was about to sprout in his face.

"_Come on and take a look, you . . ._" Vernon exploded, but the fear of repercussions held the diameter of the blast in check.

"Temper, Uncle, temper. You don't want to end up having a stroke, would you?" he said. "Lead the way," Harry said, to which Vernon promptly turned back and down the stairs, with all the elegance of an elephant in mating season. Harry saw his cousin downstairs shaking his head, a hand covering his nose. On the first floor, the smell was overpowering, making his eyes water. Petunia was fanning herself, eyes showing murder on them.

Vernon then opened the front door, and Harry almost retched with the smell now. Walking outside, he finally noticed what was causing the smell.

The beautiful station wagon, one of Vernon's prides and joy, the one which Harry washed and waxed almost all weekends, was covered in a huge pile of dung.

And from the looks and the smoke coming from it, it was _dragon's_ dung.

Harry couldn't hold it anymore, and fell down, laughing.

"_Deal with this, boy . . ." _Vernon hissed between clenched teeth, the neighbors around, which came out of their houses to check the reason of the foul smell, giving them the evil eye.

"Sorry, Uncle, I can't. This falls down under the abusive jobs we argued about, besides, if you force me I can always make some phone calls and Ms. Cheatam promised to check on me every day," Harry said, still smiling, deflating any reply Vernon might have. "Two small things: one, this is dragon dung, too hot to handle with bare hands and a shovel might burn out quite quickly. Two," and to this, Harry's eyes hardened and Vernon gave an involuntary step back, "this is just the beginning. Payback is a wizard, Uncle Vernon."

Vernon screamed his frustration, and Harry got back inside.

"What did you do?" Dudley asked, in a surprisingly calm voice. Petunia eyed the interaction with hatred, and Harry noticed it.

"Come on up and I'll tell you," the wizard answered back, eyes focusing and reflecting the same hatred towards Petunia.

The duo climbed the stairs, and got into Harry's room. Harry finally noticed the bags of purchases on the corner of the room and smiled.

"What are those?" his cousin asked, eyeing the bags.

"Some things my lawyer bought me. Clothes that fit, some books, a cell phone, things like that."

"A cell phone? Why?" Dudley asked, clearly curious.

"I do like my privacy, Dudders. And be as it may, I still don't trust you that much to know that you won't be listening at the extension, and I definitely don't trust Uncle Vernon."

"That's fair, I guess. Mum and Dad told me what happened last night, in their perspective. How did it really go?"

That surprised Harry.

"Can I ask you a question, and do you promise to answer it as best as you can?"

"If I can, sure."

"Why, Dudley? Why did you change so much? The forgiveness I can try to understand, but being nice to me and trying to befriend me I cannot. I mean, you can only change so much, and you still are your parent's son, and I don't believe that being my friend will earn any brownie points with them."

Dudley looked to him, sighed and looked down.

"You're right, you know. A man can only change so much, but a man can learn forever, if he's willing. I think I never learned something in my life, Harry, just how to be a spoilt buffoon, with more fat than sense, and then comes a young woman, who has everything to fear from me and she puts some sense in my head. I guess that her slap made the old gray matter start working. Plus, the talk with the shrink helped lots, and I want to be able to hear my sons tell what a great father I am without having to buy thirty-odd presents to them per birthday. Money does not a father make, love does, and I must say I didn't know what it was until. . ."

"Him," Harry concluded.

"Yeah. I don't know if we'll end up together forever or if I do truly swing that way, we've been only snogging so far, but I feel happy at his side for now."

"Okay, I think I can understand that. One other thing, did you knew about the money?"

"Money? What money?" Dudley asked, curious.

Harry noticed that he wasn't lying, he was clearly curious about it. "Apparently, when I was given for your parents to raise, they were set up with a trust fund to pay for my well being."

Dudley looked to him curiously. "It should have been very little money, shouldn't it? I mean, look how . . ." and he trailed off, suddenly realizing what Harry was telling.

"No, Dudley, it was a small fortune. It paid for the gifts, the food, the house, the car and everything else that you see around you," Harry said, opening his arms as to encompass the entire house.

Dudley's mouth fell, and his eyes reflected some emotions Harry wasn't sure he had ever seen in the huge boy. After a time, it fixed on something that Harry knew quite well, disappointment.

"I guess I always knew, somehow. I mean, I've never checked my father's salary or anything, but I guess that he didn't always have the money he used to spend with me. And who am I to judge him? Last year I was bullying small kids for pocket money, I am no better than he is," Dudley said.

Harry stood up after a few seconds, and patted him in the back. Dudley could be everything, but one thing he clearly wasn't, and that was a good actor.

"Look, it is only money. To be honest, I never minded about it, but what pisses me off is that at least they could have given me some care, you know? I wasn't feeding from their pockets, I wasn't spending their money, it was the reverse actually. So, why did they hate me?"

Dudley looked to him. "I guess it was a group of things. Envy from my mother, fear from my father, fear that I would be 'contaminated'" he said, making the signs with his hands, "by you, I think. I can't say, and I don't truly know. But things change, Harry, if they didn't I wouldn't be here having this conversation with you."

Harry sat down again and Dudley looked outside. "Look, I have to think about this, okay? Can we continue this later?"

"Sure," Harry said, and Dudley left.

He picked Hermione's letter again and started where he had stopped.

_Plus one other thing, I might not have access to Hogwarts now, but I do have access to the library at HQ. It is not so complete, but I guess that I can find some things there. Besides, a muggle library must have something worth reading in these subjects, if there is anything they're good at is how to go to war against each other._

_So, I guess this is it, for now. I miss you, Harry, and I know you must be feeling pretty lonely, but don't worry, I'll be there soon and before you realize, you'll be out of here and back with us._

_Don't ever give up on hope, because we never did, and never will._

_With love,_

_Hermione_

Harry found out that he was smiling when he finished her letter, it meant that he had, at least temporarily an ally to fulfill his plans. With the help from Immie, the twins and Hermione, he at least had a fighting chance.

He then picked up Neville's message, it was almost the same from the others, saying that he didn't blame Harry from what had happened, and that he was actually quite happy with his new wand, and that his Grandmother was taking him out of the country for a while, before their sixth year started.

Luna's was an exercise in understanding, her writing was perhaps crazier than her normal attitude, but Harry managed to understand that she was well, and working at the Quibbler during their vacation, to help her father.

He finished the letters and left them at his desk, and decided to check his purchases. First, he opened the cell phone box, and after reading the instructions, put the small device to charge the battery. Attached to the box was a small note, with a few phone numbers.

_Harry,_

_This is my own cell number, the home number and the office. The last number is to Hermione's house. I know you didn't ask me that, but since she's the one muggleborn you have the most need to talk to, here it is._

_Anything you need, feel free to call me._

_Immie._

He smiled, and left the note to a side. He then proceeded to check the clothes she had bought to him. Some jeans, a few t-shirts, shorts, underwear, socks, some tennis shoes, boots, two belts, four sweatpants, four sweatshirts, a leather coat, pajamas, she had bought quite a variety of everything, in more common tones, nothing too weird or garish. He eventually found another note.

_This is more or less what you asked, I used some common sense for colors, but there are a few things still missing for a good wardrobe, but I guess you can manage with what you have here till you can go shopping by yourself._

Standing up, he went to the bathroom for a quick shower. It was good to be clean to use his new clothes.

* * *

Three hours later, he was reading the first notebook on animagus transformation when the front door bell rang. He stood up, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and went down to open the door, since the house was empty. He looked through the eyehole, and smiled when he recognized the face on the other side, promptly opening the door.

"Immie," he said, smiling. The lawyer and the other woman she had with her were looking to the car parked on the driveway.

"What happened to the car, Harry?" Imogen asked, a slight smile creasing her face.

"Somehow, tonight, a dragon made a flyby over the neighborhood, and I guess the glare from the well-waxed vehicle offended him, and he used it as target for some natural smelly bombs," he said, trying to sound as neutral as possible.

It was a sight to behold. Vernon had used the garden hose to wash the droppings away, but it had taken too long to clean the station wagon. The paint was burned beyond recognition, flaking and peeling everywhere, the glasses were opaque from the heat, one of them was even broken, the tires were four mounds of rubber, and the smell was still present in the air. The only place where the car would go was the scrap yard.

"Remind me to never piss you off," the strange woman spoke, the American accent clear in her voice.

"Ah, Harry, sorry, I forgot the introductions. Harry Potter, this is Mackenzie Xavier, your Occlumens teacher. Mackenzie, this is Harry Potter," Imogen said, and the woman stretched her hand, which Harry promptly took.

"Hi there," she started. "Since _Immie_ here seems to forget, I generally don't answer to _Mackenzie. _I'm Mac to my friends. Or Charlie, if you want to be a smartass," she said, smiling.

Harry finally looked the woman from head to toe. She was smaller than he was, going at five foot six, around 170 pounds, muscular, with a very impressive chest encased in a tight t-shirt sporting the name Sex Pistols, whatever it was, with light blue eyes, and dark blood red hair, probably not her original color. She was beautiful, and her smile was making funny things to his brain. He ogled her for quite a while, before his brain decided to do something about it.

"Er. . . hum . . . hi. Arhh . . . er. Ah, bugger," he said, shaking his head and clearing it enough to answer. "S-sorry, you must think I'm a moron. Let's start again. Hi, Harry Potter," he said, still grabbing her hand and replying the smile she gave him. "And sorry, but 'Charlie'?"

The smile diminished a little on her side, and he finally released her hand. "Yes, and I must say you failed your first test, Mr. Harry James Potter, of number four Privet Drive, whose best friend is named Hermione, she has bushy hair and she is coming here next Friday. Whose other best friend is named Ron, has red hair and a sister named Ginny, and think of you as a brother and she as a sister. And Charlie is a nickname, ever heard of an American comic book named the X-Men? If you didn't, it will take far too long to explain while standing here. Can we come in?"

Harry's mouth fell down, he hadn't even felt her probe.

"Sure, please," he replied in a flat voice.

They entered the house, and Harry invited them to sit down.

"I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, Mr. Potter, it wasn't my intention. It was just to prove that I'm not just a beautiful face and that you can't drop your shields if something," she said, and stuffed her chest for effect, "grabs your attention."

"You're right," he said sheepishly after a few moments, and reddened a bit, "besides it was rude on my part. For that, I'm sorry. And no Mr. Potter here, Harry, if you please."

"No need for an apology, I've grown accustomed to the reaction, and I usually use it for my own benefit. People either think I'm too young or too beautiful to be a good Occlumens teacher, so I distract them for a few seconds and prove my point, as I did you, Harry."

"So, I'm a failure?" he asked, with a smile.

"A perfect one," she laughed. "Nobody resisted before."

Imogen remained silent for the entire introduction. Harry needed to form his own opinion about Mac, and so far it looked as it was going just fine.

"Okay, Mac, I think Imogen told you about my problem. What can you do about it?" Harry asked, bluntly.

"Kill your previous professor seems like a good idea for now. I grasped a bit of what he did with my brief intrusion, and what he did is considered criminal by the Legilimency Legislation Committee."

"There is such a thing?" Harry asked, surprised.

"In America there is, and it's an adaptation of the legislation that the British Ministry created even longer ago."

Harry stood up, fuming. Mac lifted a hand and stopped him for a second. "First lesson of occlumency, holding your feelings with nothing but a whisper is the perfect path for doom. Being pissed off for now will accomplish nothing. I'll deal with him when the time comes, now sit back down, please."

The young wizard did, and after a few moments, calmed down. "Another lie," he murmured.

"I think I need to explain what I intend to do and what I intend to teach you, so we can come to an understanding, okay?"

"Sure," Harry said.

"Occlumency and its companion, Legilimency, are two arts dedicated to the study of the mind. That's how it started, and unfortunately, somewhere in time it took a wrong turn and ended up being a tool to find out the secrets buried in someone's mind. During the several wars that happened in the Wizarding world, a good legilimens was more valuable than his own weight in gold. He was the perfect spy, for all the right and wrong reasons. Anyone could be one, a small boy, the hooker that sold her services to the enemy side, no one knew until it was too late. The only defense was the art known as Occlumency, the art of shielding one's mind against invasion.

"When the peaceful times finally came, Legilimency was carefully studied and a set of rules was created so that way a Legilimens who abused his own powers could be judged and dealt with. That was what I was referring to. Your previous professor simply ignored the set rules and what he did was effectively mind rape you."

Harry nodded to her explanation.

"What I intend to do to you first is to repair the damage that the man did, then I'll help you with some mind cleaning techniques, then we'll organize your mind so you can hide your thoughts and memories properly, and finally I will teach you how to block any invasion you might end up suffering. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good," Harry agreed, "but I do have some questions. First, why won't you teach me Legilimency?"

Mac became guarded. "Why would you need to learn it?" she asked, neutrally.

"Honestly, I don't, but I have this link with Voldemort, I could use it to learn his plans," Harry replied honestly.

Mac relaxed slightly. "Good answer and good question. From what Imogen told me, Voldemort is an accomplished Legilimens, and probably an accomplished Occlumens, he would be too stupid not to be, and I don't actually believe he is. So, if I taught you Legilimency, it would be a wasted effort for the reason you provided, because he could probably block you as you will be able to block him. Besides, I think that the link is something outside the boundaries of the two arts."

"That means I won't ever be able to block him?"

"Most of the time, yes, I believe you will, but I think the link is too strong to be completely overcome by occlumency. You'll always feel something coming from him, but I think you'll be perfectly able to discern what's real from what is fabricated. And one last thing, Legilimency is not taught by a private tutor, at least not one worthy of the title of Master Occlumens, we follow a pretty straight set of rules, and I couldn't possibly teach you how to invade a mind outside of a controlled environment."

"Okay, understood. Another question, I noticed you picked up some fresh memories, but you could have dug deeper and I would never have noticed. Why?"

"Privacy is another thing a Legilimens must learn to understand and respect. Teaching Occlumency does not mean I have to invade all your thoughts, it means that I can invade your mind. If I can see the stronger memories, meaning the younger ones, it means that I can effectively enter your mind. If you learn properly and are strong enough to withstand it, I should only be able to either see the barrier or be expelled from your mind."

"But I think I won't be able to block everything at first, so you'll have complete access to my memories?"

"Before you order your mind, yes. After you do so, no, I will be blocked by the layers of them. But don't worry, one of the first things I'll teach you is to form a mental 'no'. If you don't want me to see something, just project the no and I'll stop. It will also mean that you have failed in blocking me, but I won't have invaded your privacy."

Harry mused for a while. "Another question, and I must point that I'm willing to pay for the extra teaching, would you mind teaching some friends of mine as well?"

"Who are they?" Mac asked.

"For now, the ones you mentioned, Hermione and Ron. The reasons why I will explain later. Do you agree?"

"Sure, I've already cleaned my agenda to deal with you, Harry, so I don't see any trouble."

"You've dealt with her having a place to stay and her commission?" Harry finally asked Imogen.

"Sure, it's been taken care of."

"Well then, welcome to the madness that is my life, Professor," Harry said, smiling and extending his hand.

"If you call me Professor again, I'll seriously think on hurting ya. I told ya, call me Mac or Charlie," she said, shaking his hand.

"Okay . . . Mac. When do we start?"

"How about now? Or do you have anything better to do?"

Harry smiled and stood up. "No, nothing better. So, why don't we adjourn my room?"

Mac smiled, and quipped. "Forward, eh? But lemme warn ya, I don't swing this way, Harry."

Harry reddened. "Oh, joy," he sighed. "Another one. . ."

Mac bristled. "I'm canceling my tutoring, effectively now. Good luck in finding another teacher, Mr. Potter. Imogen, a pleasure," she said, turning away and preparing to leave.

Harry was so surprised that he almost froze, but the panic he suddenly felt made him act without thinking, and he grabbed her shoulder.

The occlumens reacted without a thought, grabbing the hand and locking it in place with her own. She twisted the body at the hip and Harry was flung through the air, landing painfully on the center table of the living room, breaking several of Petunia's knick knacks.

"_Don't EVER touch me against my will, Mr. Potter_," she said, furious, and kept on walking to the front door.

She opened it, and before anyone else could do a thing, she was stunned.

* * *

Mac came back to her senses, and promptly checked for her wand.

"Calm down," Imogen said from a side, holding her wand in her opened hand. "Can you at least wait a moment and talk before you walk out of that door?"

"Who stunned me?" Mac asked, looking to a downcast Harry.

"That'd be me, lass," said a grizzled looking wizard in the background, with a roving magical eye and a wooden leg, wand in hand but pointed down.

"Why?"

"You attacked Harry here, and we protect him. Be glad I didn't do anything worse to ya," he growled.

"You protect a _bigot_ like him? Great bunch of wizards you are . . ." Mac said, grabbing her wand from Immie.

Harry looked up from her comment. "Wait up. Bigot?"

Mac looked at him with murder in her eyes. "Don't play the _saint_ with me, Mr. Potter. That 'another one' comment was quite understood. You don't like homosexuals, so don't expect me to work for you."

Harry was surprised, but suddenly hardened his eyes. "You won't, but so that we can understand one another and you don't part thinking bad of me, I'm authorizing you to enter my mind. I'll show you a memory that I think will explain my comment, which had nothing of offensive."

Mac was stunned with the tone and decided to comply. She pointed her wand to him and whispered "_Legilimens"._

In a moment, she had unrestricted access to his mind, and in the forefront was a memory of a meeting between Harry and a very fat teenager, of about the same age. She heard the entire conversation, her face registering her shock.

When the conversation ended, she exited his mind.

"What can I say that will earn your forgiveness, Mr. Potter?" she said, in a low voice.

"One 'I'm sorry' is enough, Ms. Xavier. For someone calling herself a Master Occlumens, you sure do have a short fuse," he said, in a neutral tone.

"Then I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but I do have a short fuse, regarding some situations. One is my sexuality, I am happy as I am and no one has nothing to do with it, and two is the ones I consider family, you do not touch the Wicked Sisters with bad intentions and live to tell the tale."

"'Wicked Sisters'?" Harry asked, curious.

"I am one of triplets, plus we have a younger sister, older than you are and we're fiercely protective of one another. So, I guess this is it, Mr. Potter," she said, standing up.

"Wait up, Ms. Xavier. Do you still think I'm a bigot?" Harry asked, concerned.

"No, I think I did a terrible mistake and assumed something of someone I barely knew. For that, I owe you an apology."

"Okay, then all that happened was a huge misunderstanding on both parts. Care to start over?"

"No," she said, but with a slight smile. "But I can learn from my mistakes and move forward. So, can I go back to call you Harry?"

Harry smiled. "Sure, can I go back to calling you Mac? Should we shake hands or I'm in danger of becoming permanently attached to some wall?"

Mac laughed, and shook the offered hand. "No problem. Besides, I would like to meet the person that I saw, I believe I can help him some, after all I do have experience on what he's going through."

"Sure, I'll set something up. But after what happened, I want to ask a favor of you. Do not assume anything of me, I'm tired of such behavior from almost everyone around me, they either want the famous Golden Boy or the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. I can count on the fingers of one hand and not use them all the people that know only Harry."

"I'm sorry about it, Harry. Another rule of Occlumency I keep forgetting. 'No mind is alike.' Means that I can't assume anything from anybody."

"Rule to live by, lass," the wizard in the background spoke, spooking her slightly.

"And who the hell are you, old man?" Mac asked, still miffed on being stunned so easily.

"Ah, sorry Mac, he's sort of a bodyguard for me, name's Alastor Moody," Harry said, motioning to the wizard.

"_Mad-Eye Moody?"_ Mac asked, surprised.

"You know me? Cause I surely don't remember your face," Mad-Eye said, approaching.

"One of my twins is an Arrow, she spoke about you several times. You're some sort of legend on the magical law enforcement community. I thought you were dead," she blabbered.

"Arrow?" Harry asked.

"You could call them the American version of the Aurors, but their training and focus is broader," Imogen answered.

Mac nodded. "Yeah, Wicked Sister Number Two, Eph."

"Number two? And that makes you what?" Harry asked, smiling.

"Why Harry, I don't settle for anything but the best. You are speaking with Wicked Sister Number One, Mac Xavier," she said, striking a sensuous pose.

-oOo-

"I'll be back to my patrol, Harry. I think you're safe for now," Moody said, the wooden leg making a characteristic sound on the floor.

"Moody, wait," Harry said, approaching the man. "Don't tell anything to Dumbledore, please," he whispered to him.

"Why, lad?"

"Some things happened after the battle at the Ministry, and I decided to have a more active role in my own life. Besides, what I am doing now is just trying to improve my chances, there's nothing that I'm doing here that goes against the Order's business."

"Then why aren't you training Occlumency with Snape?" Mad-Eye asked, to which Harry went red.

"What Snape did was effectively mind-rape me, Alastor. He taught me nothing, and if he had, Sirius could still be alive," Harry said, under gritted teeth.

"What are you talking about, boy?" Moody asked.

Harry looked to the two waiting women, and pushed Alastor outside. He explained what had happened during the 'tutoring' sessions he had with Snape, and the reason why the 'lessons' ended. Moody snarled loudly, the wand in his hand trembling.

"Me and the professor will have some words, Harry. If he wasn't so damned important to the Order, I'd throw the bastard in the lowest dungeon in Azkaban for some years. Now go back in, I think the ladies are waiting, hope she can teach you something worthwhile. And I do know the lawyer lady, Imogen, she's a right lass. The cases I had that went her way were clean, and she's a fair woman. And don't worry, I won't tell Dumbledore a thing for now. What you do with your free time, if it ain't stupid, it ain't my business."

"Thanks, Moody. I owe you one," Harry said, and went back in.

"Just live, lad, and all the debts are paid, fair and square," Moody said, finally hiding himself under an invisibility cloak.

* * *

Author Notes: First of all, thanks for all the reviews, good or bad I want them. Now to answer a few questions that popped on them:

**jarno: ** The situation of the 'trust fund' set by Dumbledore will be explained a few chapters in the future.

**Ellie: **Dudley being gay is not set in stone right now, as I've explained in this chapter. He's happy right now with Julius, and there shall be further explanations of his situation in a few chapters.

**werewolf21: **Sorry dude, the chapter sizes are the responsibility of my muse. She tells me, I keep on writing till we're both satisfied.

**Dark-Syaoran and others:**This will be a Harry/Hermione fic, so sorry if I'm not following canon, besides I do think that the reasons for them to fall in love with each other will be explained in the coming chapters. Harry/Tonks is just a teenage boy with an attack of hormones plus an animagus wanting to shag a nice guy. It might end up happening (the shagging, that is) or it might not. It remains to be seen, besides it won't affect the outcome of the H/Hr issue.

**Shadowed Rains: **Thanks!

Another thing, I searched for someone who asked what AU means, and I didn't find it. AU means Alternate Universe, where things divert from canon from a set point, in my case it diverted after the ending of OOtP. Plus, I just finished reading HBP, and I will incorporate a few plot points to my story. Not many, and to those who didn't read it yet, don't worry, they will be integrated as seamlessly as possible in the story so I won't be giving away spoilers.

One last thing, thanks for the RL Mac Xavier, I do love you and Cordy. Kisses from a fan. Drop on by anytime for a chat, Mac.

BigHead.


	6. Testing, testing 1 2 3

Chapter 6 – Testing . . . testing . . . 1 . . 2 . . 3

The first lesson in occlumency, if it could be called that, was quite boring. Mac had sat with him for some hours, and just ordered him to take a deep breath and relax, after explaining what would happen. She held his hands, and without uttering any incantation, got into his mind. Surprisingly, Harry did not feel either the invasion or the calling of any memory, in fact, after a few minutes of apparent inactivity, he started to yawn. His eyelids started growing heavy, and he started entering the deeply relaxed state of one ready to sleep. That's when he felt the slight tingle of Mac's probe, but as soon as he noticed it, the feeling vanished.

The sensation was repeated several times in the span of a couple of hours, and Harry noticed that just when he was almost asleep was when he felt the intrusion. When she finished, Harry was surprisingly tired, almost as if he had played a full season of Quidditch in a span of some hours. So Mac took him to bed and let him sleep it off. Thankfully, none of the Dursleys was at home, and Harry managed a few hours of a fitful deep sleep.

He woke up to the sound of the doorbell once again. He opened it after looking through the eyehole, and in a few moments the deliverymen were placing his new bed and closet up in his room. The old ones were put to a side and Harry thanked them, after explaining that he would deal with the old furniture himself. When the men departed, Harry climbed the stairs two steps a time and jumped in his new, extremely comfortable bed, and like a child he never were, bounced on it until he tired of it.

He quickly changed all of his clothes to his new closet, and deciding to risk it a bit, banished the old one with a simple spell. He waited for a few more minutes, impatiently waiting for the owl from the Ministry, and seeing that none appeared, he did the same to the bed. He looked to the room and smiled slightly. Grabbing the animagus manual, he sat once again on the bed and opened the notebook at the bookmark he had made previously. He had arrived in the part where he would have to try and find his animal form, and apparently, by Sirius' writings, it was the most boring part, since it required great concentration and at the same time he needed to be relaxed to find the form.

He repositioned himself, cross-legged like an Indian, took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing to the inside and trying to attain the same frame of mind that he did a few hours early, during his occlumency lesson, without falling asleep this time. Harry tried for some minutes, but the only thing he managed was to grow more and more impatient. Seeing it as a failure, he stood up and started pacing the room.

* * *

Somewhere else in England, a man entered a dark chamber, the torchlights reflecting on his silver hand. He was trembling like jelly, but no one dared to make his master wait. 

He stopped a few feet in front of the throne, head held low, waiting for his master to speak. The man shrouded in darkness, both in an out, looked to his servant with disdain.

"The preparations, Wormtail?" he asked, the voice not sounding entirely human.

"A-all is at ready, my Lord, just waiting for your command," he said, cowering.

"Then send the order," he said. "Leave nothing standing."

"It shall be done, Master," the traitorous animagus said, and fled out of the room.

* * *

Amelia Bones arrived home by floo, and as usual, she was bone tired and her feet were killing her. No amount of magic could do with several hours of walking up and down the Ministry, trying to keep the Aurors both with their heads working over their shoulders and to defuse the situations popping up apparently every thirty seconds. Now, every weird sound that a wizard heard in a back alley in the entire British islands was reason to suspect a Death Eater attack, and an Auror was dispatched to check it. So far, none had been true, but she had to authorize a few muggle obliviations because some more short-tempered or scared wizards decided to use their wands instead of their eyes or brains. 

She kicked her shoes away and sat on her favorite armchair. A couple of minutes later, her niece appeared, bringing a small pot of tea, two cups and a muscle relaxant potion.

"You're a lifesaver, you know?" Amelia said, to which Susan smiled. She grabbed the potion and drained it in one go, grimacing with the taste. "Muggles should probably do this better."

"I could add sugar, but I don't know if it would alter the properties," Susan said, putting the tray on a side desk, and sitting on the ground, right next to her aunt. "Another bad day?"

"And it will only get worse," the head of Magical Law Enforcement said, sighing. "The first time You-Know-Who attacks, the calls will triple, and we are understaffed and overworked as it is."

"And Fudge? What is he doing?" Susan said, serving them both the tea.

"Trying to cover his own arse," Amelia said. Susan wasn't even a little bit surprised by the cursing, her aunt was an extremely well educated witch, but there were times when the Hogwarts student knew the exact reason why her aunt was one of the most respected officers of the Ministry. She didn't cut any corners, to no one, for no reason. There was even talk that if Fudge were removed, her aunt was the second on the list, just behind Dumbledore.

Susan smiled, bringing the cup to her lips. Before she could take a sip, the fire from the fireplace turned green.

"Are you waiting for. . ." Susan started, but before she could complete the sentence, a black clad man appeared from it. Reacting instantly, Susan threw the scalding hot tea in his face. The man screamed when the liquid burned his eyes and the young woman jumped to the side, unbalancing the armchair and throwing herself and her aunt away from his immediate aim.

Amelia, as soon as she hit the ground, rolled away from the chair, while her wand suddenly appeared from her sleeve. The first Death Eater was mostly disabled, the tea probably did too much damage to his eyes. Amelia stupefied him, but to her distress, the fireplace burned green again.

"RUN!" she screamed to her niece, while she stood up as well. Susan grabbed her own wand from her back pocket and with a scream of "_Reducto!"_ aimed at the top of the mantel, she effectively dealt with two problems. The shower of rocks and dirt hit the Death Eater entering via floo, knocking him out, and the loss of structural integrity made the fireplace crumble on itself, effectively blocking the entrance.

With a moment to breathe, they looked around, but the sound of an explosion near the front door alerted them that the problem wasn't over. Amelia pointed her wand to the unconscious Death Eaters.

"_Accio _wands," she said, and the magical implements ended up in her hand. With a quick motion, she broke both wands and threw the pieces back to the fireplace rubble. "They're off for good. Now, RUN!"

They ran to the back of the house, straight to the kitchen area. Two spells flew around them, but luckily none hit. With a repeat of the previous idea, Susan aimed her wand to the ceiling of the corridor and the explosive spell made it crumble behind them, blocking the passage for a few seconds.

"We have to clear the anti-apparition ward, Susie," Amelia said.

"The back door must be being watched, auntie," Susan said, while keeping an eye on their backs. Amelia looked around and suddenly an idea popped on her mind.

"Come with me, second door to the right," she said, and they ran to it, a killing curse almost hitting Susan. The Hogwarts student entered first, with Amelia following right behind.

The ex-Auror turned division head screamed, after a curse hit her lower arm. Biting the pain away, she locked the door behind her with her shoulder. "_Blow the floor, Susan!"_

Susan did not stop to think, the bathroom floor exploded, covering them with pieces of wood, gravel and ceramic, cutting and bruising them severely. "_Down!" _her aunt screamed, and she jumped in the hole, landing in a darkened room, smelling of dirt and mould. Amelia landed behind her a few seconds later, wobbly standing back on her feet.

"_Lumos," _Susan said, and the tip of her wand lighted up. They were at the mansion's basement, and the place hasn't been visited or cleaned for a good while now. Amelia grimaced with pain, but checked her surroundings, finally finding what she wanted.

"The closet, at the corner," Amelia said, pointing to an old, rickety looking closet. "The incantation is _Portus Revelo._"

Susan pointed her wand and said the incantation, and the closet moved to a side, revealing a passage behind it. Amelia ran to it, and Susan followed behind, a Death Eater landing behind them through the hole, but lucky them, he apparently landed wrong and the sound of bones breaking was clearly heard. Once they entered the passage, Amelia ordered Susan to tap the back of the closet with her wand, and the furniture went back to place, closing the passage behind them.

"We're safe for now, the closet is charmed to resist most spells. But run, we have to escape them," Amelia said, grimacing with pain.

They ran for about a minute through the long corridor, the illumination of Susan's wand barely showing them the way. "What is this place, auntie?"

"_Later_, Susie. I think we're far enough. Grab my arm," Amelia said weakly, and when Susan did, they disappeared with a loud pop.

* * *

They reappeared at the apparition point of the Ministry, and Amelia promptly fainted with the effort. Susan grabbed hold of her, and that's when she noticed that her aunt was too white to be natural. 

"Auntie, wha…" And she noticed Amelia's lower right arm, or the complete lack of it. She screamed, and in seconds they were surrounded by wizards and Aurors.

Someone with enough presence of mind slapped an emergency portkey to them, and they were whisked away to St. Mungos.

* * *

In an unplotted and obscured island, way off coast of Scotland, a man was walking in a set pattern over a high wall, looking to his surroundings with disinterest, the chill of the air being valiantly fought by the heating charms on his robes. He brought his pipe to his lips, taking a deep breath of the scented smoke. He stopped for a moment under a torch, enchanted to not go off with the wind, and checked his pocket watch, smiling when he noticed that he had only fifteen more minutes off in this cursed weather before going back inside. 

Being a guard in Azkaban prison was not a good job. Since the dementors fled to work for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Ministry decided to employ Aurors and Unspeakables to guard the criminals currently serving their sentences at the island. The chilly and scary place was truly the greatest nightmare in the Wizarding world, and not even the lack of their spectral guard did make the place any less fearsome.

He started walking again, looking to the turbulent sea crashing at the rock wall below him.

Suddenly a gust of wind made his robes fly wildly, and he had to turn his back to it for a few moments, till the wind passed. He started feeling cold, and thinking nothing on it, grabbed his wand and re-cast the warming spell. When it didn't work, he tried again, while the cold only got worse. Then the feeling changed to one he had never knew, one of hopelessness.

That's when he turned back to the sea, and suddenly a pair of skeletal hands grabbed his face. He never felt anything again.

Five minutes later, the island was empty of prisoners, the only thing left behind were human bodies that functioned, but had nothing left of their souls.

* * *

Harry dined with his relatives, under the withering glare of his aunt and uncle, but he simply wasn't caring. Dudley was silent as well, and by the looks of it, he was still too surprised with everything that Harry had told him. After he finished, he politely excused himself and went back to his room. 

His scar was annoying him a bit, and it probably meant that Voldemort was stretching his wings, now that he had been discovered. The wizard started pacing, but being stuck inside a small room was starting to affect him, so he decided to do something about it. He grabbed some socks, his tennis shoes, and in a minute he was going downstairs and out of the front door.

"Who's out there?" he asked to the apparently empty night.

"That would be me, Harry," said a black shaven-head man, with a gold earring in one ear, who appeared from behind an invisibility cloak.

"Hello, Auror Shacklebolt. I'm going for a run. Care to join me?" Harry asked, warming up with some motions he had used for Quidditch practice.

The Senior Auror and member of the Order of the Phoenix shrugged, and transformed his robes in something more appropriate for the exercise, using what Harry was wearing as a template for his own clothes.

"You sure this is appropriate, Harry?" he asked, almost imitating the movements the young wizard was doing.

"I'm feeling cramped in there," he said, pointing to his back, but decided to hide the fact that the scar was hurting slightly. "Since I can't go very far, running a few times around the block sounds like the best option. Let's go?"

"Sure," the Auror answered, following the young man.

They started at a quick pace during the first lap, which covered four blocks around the residential neighborhood. They passed in front of Arabella Figg's home, and Harry noticed Dudley´s old gang hidden in the porch of an empty house, smoking. They noticed Harry as well, but the presence of the big auror following behind him curtailed any attempt they might have in their small minds.

The second lap was faster, and completed in less time, the pain in his forehead being quickly supplanted by the pain in his legs. By the time they passed the empty house again, the gang was gone. Third time they gathered a few looks from the curious neighbors. Fourth time was in an all out run-for-your-life pace, where they both ended panting heavily in front of Harry's house.

Kingsley conjured two bottles of water, and they waited for their breaths to normalize to speak again.

"That . . . was awful," Harry said, panting.

"I thought . . . I was in shape. . . but I can see I'm. . . not. Good. . . thing we can apparate . . . or else . . . I'd be. . . in a bad spot," Shacklebolt said, his head covered in sweat.

Harry looked in his direction, removing his slippery glasses for a moment. "What if you can't?" he asked.

"Can't what?"

"Apparate. Suppose you have to fight in Hogwarts, no one can apparate in its grounds. You'd have to run up and down all over the school," Harry said, finally managing to control his breath.

"That's why you are running? Do you think You-Know-Who will attack the school?" the auror asked, eyes wide.

"I won't put anything past Voldemort at this point, besides, he already attacked there, using his cunning. Now that he's revealed himself, I think it is likely he'll go full out against us. After all, we are his greatest enemies," Harry said, drying his nose with the edge of his t-shirt so he could put his glasses back in place.

"That's probably true. I think I'll talk with Scrimgeour about it, perhaps we can set some running to our physical training routine."

"Who's Scrimgeour?" Harry asked.

"Rufus Scrimgeour is the head of Auror Division, my direct superior."

Harry filed this particular piece of information to the back of his planning head. "Could you arrange something with Dumbledore so I could run at nights?" he gambled with the auror.

Kingsley thought it over for a few moments. "Let me see what I can do, if I can't set up so you can run every night, I think that either me or Tonks would be up for the challenge," he said smiling, but then stiffened slightly and removed a pendant held in a thin chain from inside his shirt. "I'm being recalled to the Ministry for some reason. I'll have to go, but don't worry, I'll send someone to keep watch as soon as I can. Please, stay in tonight, okay?" he pleaded.

Harry nodded. "Good luck, Shacklebolt," he said, already at the door's threshold. "If you could ask for your substitute to tell me what happened . . ."

"I'll try. Stay in, please," he said and apparated away, without even transfiguring his clothes back to normal.

* * *

Harry busied himself with the animagus manual for a few hours, the dull pain in his forehead disabling any attempt at anything more serious. Suddenly, his cell phone rang, and he jumped from the bed to pick it up. 

"_Harry?_" came the voice of Imogen from the small device.

"What happened, Immie?" he asked, worried.

"_Well, I managed to set up the reading of the will for tomorrow at ten AM, at Gringotts. I've already spoken with Mr. Lupin earlier today, and he agreed. You up for it?_"

Harry sighed. "To be honest, no, I'm not, but I don't have a choice, do I? Sure, I'll be waiting for you."

"_I'll be arriving around nine thirty. Sorry to put you through this. . ."_ the lawyer said, the sadness clear in her voice.

"Not your fault. If someone is to blame it is…"

"_Voldemort, Harry. He's the murderer, not you,_" she completed, before he could start wallowing in self-pity.

Harry sighed again. "Yeah, you're right. It was just tharrrrghhh! GAH!" he screamed on the phone, the sudden lancing pain in his scar making him fold in half.

"_HARRY! HARRY!_" Imogen screamed in the phone for a few seconds.

Harry wasn't coherent enough to form an answer, just to whimper while his brain burned with pain.

* * *

A/N: Ahh, cliffie. I don't usually do those, but here it is. Now to my not so extensive author notes:

** Bobmin356: **I do love your stories, I reccomend to everyone to check them out. All of them. But to answer a question, I've read the lexicon previously, and they make no mention to Hermione's parents names. People just generally assume that is Dan an Emma, I decided to go another venue. And I do love your stories, it bears repeating.

**stormryder77**: I couldn't reply to your private e-mail, but yes, Mac is the same one from the Journeyverse, we are good friends, and she's loving the story so far. I did the character with her blessing, btw.

And next installment, Dudley will have the fallout of his change of heart with Harry. But until there, reviews are always welcome.

BigHead


	7. Sons and Fathers

Chapter 7 – Sons and Fathers

Voldemort waited patiently for his servant to bring some news about both raids. The woman Bones and her niece shouldn't be a problem, but Azkaban might be a challenge, after all he might have allied himself with the Dementors, but his control of them was slim at best. If things went wrong, there wasn't a thing that anyone could do to block their turning against the Death Eaters.

One of his answers came in a surprising form, when a dirty, malnourished and dressed in rags man approached him. He might have stayed in Azkaban for some time, but nothing could curb the posture of Lucius Malfoy, which stood proud in front of his Dark Lord.

"Lucius, this proves that things went as planned at Azkaban," Voldemort said, standing from his throne.

"I believe it went better than expected, My Lord," Malfoy said, bowing to the hooded man. "We have liberated some other prisoners, who agreed to join forces with us."

"Good, good. Now, go ahead and clean yourself, then bring your son to me. I have a mission I wish him to fulfill," Voldemort ordered, and Lucius Malfoy bowed again.

"It will be as you command, My Lord," he answered, and walked out of the room.

"Send Wormtail in as well," he said, to a retreating back.

A few moments later, Peter Pettigrew walked in, cowering in fear. Voldemort noticed, and before the animagus could utter a single word, the wand snapped in place and the Dark Lord yelled.

"_CRUCIO!_"

Wormtail screamed with the Unforgivable, and Voldemort kept the spell going for a while.

"You failed, your incompetent fool. Can you give me a good reason why ten of our best men couldn't kill a single woman?"

"I-it was t-the n-niece, My Lord. S-she managed to kill the element of surprise, and they managed to run. Their house is no more, though, Master."

"House, house! I don't care about any _bloody house!_ _Crucio!"_

The spell hit the man again, and he screamed.

"So, a simple Hogwarts student thwarts my plan. _Why_, you useless worm?"

"Potter trained her," came a third voice from the entrance. Voldemort whipped his head in the direction of the intruder, an incantation ready to leave his lips.

"What do you know about it, Severus?" he asked, approaching Hogwart's Potion Master.

"Last year that idiot Fudge put his undersecretary, a woman by the name of Umbridge, as a scapegoat to discredit Mr. Potter. She was put as Hogwarts' Defense professor, and seeing her incompetence plus the fear of your return made Mr. Potter create a 'Defense Association', to train selected students in the Arts. Susan Bones was one of those students," Severus Snape revealed, his cape swishing behind his back as he entered Voldemort's inner chamber.

Voldemort hissed his disgust. "Leave me, I'll deal with this mess myself."

"You're going after Potter?" Snape asked, curious.

The Dark Lord snapped his wand in the professor's direction. "What I do or do not is my own business. Control your tongue or you might see if you function without it," the thing that used to be Tom Riddle said.

"Forgive my assumptions, Master. I shall take my leave," Snape said, and departed.

"As for you, Wormtail, see that the men who failed paid the price of their failure."

"It shall be done, Lord Voldemort," Pettigrew said, and scurried out of the chamber.

"As for Mr. Potter, let's see how he handles a little _pain_," Voldemort spoke to himself, and swam deeper in the connection between them.

* * *

Harry's wails of pain woke up the entire house plus the direct neighbors at their sides. Venon entered the room, decided to punch the boy so he could have a little peace, but was too scared against the consequences. Dudley was the one who surprisingly took some action.

"_Mum! Bring some ice, a towel and whatever painkiller we have at home! Run!_" he said, approaching Harry without seeing if his mother had moved. He sat on the ground right at Harry's head, and before he could take an action, he noted the frantic-looking Hedwig. Standing up, he picked a piece of parchment and scribbled a quick note on it.

"Take this to whoever can help him. Hurry!" he said, tying the note to the owl's leg. He opened the window and the owl took flight immediately.

He sat on the ground again and his mother arrived with what he had ordered, leaving all the items near Dudley.

"Harry! Harry! Can you take some painkillers?" Dudley asked, and Harry's only answer was another scream of pain. The fat boy opened a bottle and took four pills from the inside. "Harry, if you can understand me, open your mouth!" he said, frantically.

Harry was lost in a sea of unbelievable pain, it was effectively worse than a _crucio_ spell, it seemed as if his head was ready to explode and implode at the same time, plus all of his nerve endings were into a serious pain overdrive. He tried to fight and erect his barriers, but the pain was making any effort a failure, even before it began, and somehow the feedback was keeping him conscious during the entire ordeal.

"Ah, bugger! Sorry, Harry, you'll hate me a little more after that, and I'll probably be killed by whomever appears to deal with you," Dudley said, discarding the pills. He closed his ham-sized fist and let it fly, hitting Harry perfectly in the chin.

Harry crumbled to the ground, finally unconscious.

* * *

Voldemort lost the connection, someone had finally managed to deal with Potter. No matter, he could still do the same later, whenever the boy was unprotected.

* * *

Dudley grabbed his unconscious cousin from the ground, under the withering glare of his parents, and deposited him in his bed. He then proceeded to apply the ice on the bruise forming at his chin.

"Why are you helping _him_, son?" Vernon asked, annoyed.

Harry's cousin thought about giving his father a real answer, but he had to tend for Harry first.

"Because in like four minutes, one of his friends is going to come crashing down the front door, and I wouldn't like to explain why he's on the ground with a bloody bruise on his chin," he replied.

Dudley was just a little wrong on his timing. Two and a half minutes later, someone was blowing the door away with a spell. Petunia went down to deal with the commotion.

"_Where is he?_" asked a frantic Imogen, being followed immediately behind by Mac.

"Upstairs," Petunia answered, part scared, part irritated about being left without a front door, again.

Imogen ran upstairs to find Harry being treated with a towel filled with something being applied to his face.

"What happened?" Imogen asked, looking to a puce-colored Vernon and a worried Dudley.

"H-he was s-screaming," Dudley said, looking between Harry and the lawyer, "in pain, like someone was hurting him pretty badly, I tried to make him take some painkillers, he was hurting so much that he didn't listen, I guess. I-I knocked him out a-and he finally went limp."

Imogen deflated slightly, and looked to Mac, who was giving Vernon the evil eye. "Voldemort?"

"I guess so, Harry's shields are shot to shit, pardon the French, and I wouldn't put it past him to inflict some pain on the kid," Mac said, approaching the bed and the unconscious wizard. "You did well, Dudley. If Voldemort kept the pain going, Harry could end up with some severe brain problems. Knocking him out was the right thing to do," she said, and smiled at him.

The youngest Dursley smiled as well and relaxed. Imogen looked to Vernon. "I know our presence is probably irking you severely, and I couldn't care less. You may go, we'll deal with the problem ourselves," the lawyer said, making shooing motions while at it. Vernon went out of the room, grumbling under his breath.

Dudley kept the towel with ice on his cousin's face and stood up to leave. "I guess I shall be going as well . . ." he said. Mac put her hand on his, making him stop.

"Don't go, we're not pissed with you, and you _really_ did the right thing with what you had in hands at the moment," the occlumens said.

"What you will do now?" he asked to them both.

"He'll be back in a bit, and I think I can make a patch up job on his shields so he can hold the night, tomorrow we'll start an intensive course on Magical Mind Shields 101," Mac said, trying to alleviate the tension. "I think I'll stay the night so if Voldemort attacks again, he'll have a fighting chance."

"I'll stay as well," Imogen said. Mac looked to the room, it barely had space for them to stay standing up, lying down to sleep was impossible, unless Harry wanted to stay really happy with two women in bed with him with no space to breathe.

"Someone's gonna be quite roomy. Not that I mind, thou," Mac said, leering Immie, but with a wicked grin in face.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Mac," Imogen said, annoyed.

"Hey, sorry, just trying to relieve the tension," Mac replied, pouting. Imogen looked to her, sheepishly.

"Sorry, I overreacted. It's just that I hate to feel so impotent," the attractive lawyer said.

"I know the feeling," came the surprising reply from Dudley.

They both looked to the teenager, who kept putting the ice on the swell in Harry's jaw.

"And I think I can help somehow with the sleeping arrangements, my room is right next door, and I can sleep in the guest room for the night. One of you ladies could stay here and the other in my bed."

"Thanks, Mr. Dursley. We could expand the room, but I don't know what should be the effects on the wards around the house. It is too bad that Voldemort can still attack Harry's mind, I wouldn't like to destroy a ward unintentionally and end up with fifteen Death Eaters to annoy my beauty sleep," Imogen said, a slight smile back on her face.

"I believe then, Ms. Cheatam, that I can be of assistance," said a new voice just arriving at the door.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was hunkered over another of his family's journals, this one from his great-grandfather Ananias, and from what he had read so far, the man was a powerful and strong individual, as were all the Malfoys, but a passage almost at the end of the diary was intriguing the youngest Malfoy. He re-read it for the tenth time, trying to figure it out.

"_. . . I've learned since early on that a Malfoy shouldn't be ashamed of his own acts, that we are a powerful and proud family of purebloods, which can be traced back to the time of the Founders of Hogwarts. But how can I not be ashamed of what I did? There are limits a man must set unto himself, and those limits must not be broken for no reason. That, I believe is the true meaning of Honor, and that is how a man is able to look at his own reflection in the mirror and be proud of what he sees. And yet, I broke my own limits, and for that I know I will die in shame, even if no one knows about it. No one needs to, after all the shame falls all upon my shoulders._

_Just bear in mind, my descendant, since every Malfoy was taught from early to learn from his ancestors, there are things that you should and shouldn't do that will have no greatest repercussion than into your own soul. So then beware, and learn from this old man who nowadays only rambles in these yellowed pages that there is no greater shame than that we place on ourselves."_

Draco stood up, his back was starting to kill him after so many hours of reading. After his Father was arrested, he decided to read all that he could about the Malfoys, first to learn how to deal with being head of the family while his father was away, and later to learn what made a Malfoy be a Malfoy.

A house elf popped up near him, the scared creature looking to the ground the entire time.

"Master Draco, Fiz is come to call young Master, Master Malfoy wants to see young Master," the elf said, trembling.

"Master Malfoy? Father? Where is he?" Draco asked, surprise etched in his face.

"Master Malfoy is at Master's room, Master Draco," the elf said.

Draco bolted out of the library, a smile in his face, and he ran the entire length of the Manor. He stopped right in front of the master bedroom and opened the door, still smiling.

Finishing the touches on his clothes in front of the mirror stood his father, Lucius Malfoy.

"Fa. . ." he started, but before he could finish, he was hit point blank.

"_Crucio,"_ the older Malfoy said, anger clearly reflected in his face. After a few moments of the Unforgivable, Lucius lifted his wand, ending the curse for the moment. "You failed me, Draco."

"_Why, Father?"_ Draco asked, still in so much pain.

"You should have done something to take me out of Azkaban, your worthless idiot. Now, I have my position weakened in front of our Lord, _he_ had to take me out of that hole, all because my own son is too weak to act."

"B-but F-father . . ." Draco said, still on his knees, trying to understand.

Lucius hit Draco forcefully on the chin with the tip of his cane, a welt forming in seconds. Draco spun around, tears threatening to fall.

"Your luck is that our Master wishes to see us, and we shouldn't keep him waiting. Change into something appropriate and return here," Lucius said, and walked to the adjoining study room without waiting for an answer.

"Y-yes, Father," Draco said to a closed door.

* * *

"Headmaster," Imogen said, the imposing figure of Albus Dumbledore filling the entrance to the room. "What are you doing here?"

"As you are aware now, Imogen, young Harry has a few people who watch over him. When both of you appeared and started banging at the door, the watcher currently stationed outside decided to call me, so here am I. What happened to him?" Dumbledore asked, eyeing a still unconscious Harry.

"Voldemort decided to attack him using their connection, Dud here did the right thing an knocked him out before the old fart cooked his brains from inside," Mac said, now sitting at the head of the bed with Harry's head on her lap.

"Colorful description, young lady. And you are?" Dumbledore asked, eyes twinkling madly.

"A friend of Harry's, with better shields than you, Albie. So knock it off, old man, I don't like uninvited guests," Mac replied, and using her mastery of occlumency, kicked Albus off her mind, none too gently.

"Sorry about that, it won't be repeated," Dumbledore said, with his most kindly smile present. "It's just that I have a special interest in Harry's well being."

"Yeah, right," she snorted.

"What do you want, Albus?" Imogen asked, incensed.

"To see if Harry was okay, but since you are here, I believe that my presence is redundant. However, let me make your night more comfortable," he said, and waved his wand. In moments, the walls grew to the side, expanding the room to triple the size it had previously. And out of thin air, another bed appeared, an exact copy of the one Harry was currently lying in. Almost as an afterthought, Dumbledore removed a small flask from the insides of his robes and handed it to Imogen. "I believe this will make Harry's night more bearable. It is a dreamless sleep potion, plus a bit of a muscle relaxant. I'd like to stay and chat a bit more, but I do have to take my leave, apparently what Harry felt was some sort of repercussion for tonight's events," the Headmaster said.

"What happened?" Mac asked, curious.

"The head of Magical Law Enforcement was attacked at her own home. She was hurt but right now she's out of danger. And Azkaban was emptied as well," he said.

Imogen shook her head. "Stupid Fudge," she said, disgust evident in her voice.

"Unfortunately, I must agree, Ms. Cheatam, however, right now, there is nothing we can do to rectify the situation," Dumbledore said.

"That's bull, Dumbledore, and you know it," she said, "being the head of the Wizengamot and quite friendly with Amelia Bones, all you would have to do is put some of your fabled powers of persuasion to work and we would have a competent Minister to deal with this mess faster than Voldemort could spell his name. Voldemort has fought from the shadows long enough, and right now he's going public. It's time for the people fighting this war to come forward as well."

"Things are more complicated than that, Imogen, and I shall explain my reasoning for you once we meet in private. I believe our reunion is still on?"

"I'll be there, Headmaster, we do have a lot to discuss," the lawyer said evenly.

"Then I shall take my leave. Imogen, lady, Mr. Dursley," Dumbledore said, and left with a swish of his robes. He stopped for a moment. "Ah, next time, I do believe that using the door bell is more practical than blowing the front door," he smirked, and finally left.

"Smartass," Mac commented, surprising both Dudley and Imogen.

* * *

"_Uunngh," _Harry groaned and immediately felt disconnected, the same sensation he had when going immersed in a pensieve.

"Where am I?" he inquired, noticing the grayish look of the place around him. He patted himself for his wand but couldn't find it anywhere.

"Don't worry, you're safe, Harry," came the voice and figure of Mac, appearing from apparently nowhere.

"Where are we?" he asked, relaxing slightly.

"This, Harry, is the Point of Contact, the place where my mind touches yours and yet is neither. We occlumens use it when we want to chat without invading each other's mind."

"What happened? Why we are here?" the yong wizard asked.

Mac's face grew worried. "Voldemort attacked you earlier tonight, you were in a lot of pain. Lucky you, you were talking with Immie when it happened, so she called me and we came as quickly as we could. One other good thing, your cousin was nearby and he . . . helped you," she said sheepishly.

"Helped me? How, I mean he's not a wizard, what did he do?"

"He knocked you out. You do have a nice bruise forming around here," Mac said, pointing to her own jaw.

"Oh," Harry said, reflexively massaging the bruised area. "I suppose that's good, right?"

"It is, otherwise the old piece of shit might have fried your noggin'."

"First time I'll thank Dudders for hitting me," Harry mumbled. "So, why we are here?" he asked, eyeing the gray formless environment.

"Well, since I believe you aren't in the mood to end your vacation without a brain, I've decided to give you a crash course in occlumency," Mac said with a smile and immediately afterwards she lost the smile, going serious. "However, to do that I'll have to enter your mind several times. It will be painful a few times, but nothing extreme as that bastard did, and it will be tiresome. I'll be compressing a few months of training in a few weeks. Besides, I have to take us out of here for a few minutes, I have to take an oath and I can't do that here."

"An oath? What for?" Harry asked, curious.

"Do you remember that we have a set of rules to follow?" To Harry's nod, she continued. "Legilimiency is the deepest form of invasion of privacy that exists, I'll see all of your memories, without restriction. So I do have to take a Wizard's Oath that I won't reveal anything that I see unless you do authorize me or release me of the oath."

"It makes sense," Harry said, his face reflecting more than a hint of sadness.

Mac noticed. "What's wrong, Harry?" she asked, finally invading his personal space.

Harry gulped. "I did some things I'm not proud of," he said, whispering.

Mac smiled slightly. "We all did, Harry, and I'm not here to judge you."

Harry nodded, not really convinced.

"Look, I know you for very little time, but I can say you're a nice guy. Whatever you did I can guarantee it was with the best intentions in mind, even when they went wrong."

"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions," he quoted, somberly.

"Only if you want to go to Hell, Harry. Do you?"

Harry shook his head. "No, but my life seems to be dragging me inexorably towards it, besides I do know I'll have to face the Devil in the future," he said, enigmatically.

"What do you mean?"

"I'll tell you later. Let's get out of here, I think Immie is getting worried," Harry said, effectively cutting the current conversation.

"Sure, but before we do, let me do something," she said, coming even closer to him.

"What?" he asked, guarded.

"This," and she hugged him. Harry stiffened for a moment, but then he relaxed into the hug. "Remember one thing, Harry, you can't lie to me here, or I to you. Before being your teacher, I'm your friend," she said with a smile.

And that, Harry Potter realized, was the absolute truth.

* * *

Harry groaned again after a few moments. Dudley removed the wet towel from his face and stood up.

"I guess I'll be going. He must not be happy with me," he said.

A deceptively strong hand grabbed his wrist before he could give a step back.

"You're wrong, Dud. True, I didn't like being hit that much, matter of fact, oww," Harry said, lightly massaging the swollen area. "But, I must say it was loads better than the alternative. So what I wanted to say was thank you," he said, opening his hand and holding it open. Dudley gaped, looking like a fish, till comprehension dawned. He grabbed the offered hand and smiled.

"You're welcome. Look, I'll leave you in the good care of those ladies. Don't talk much, and keep the ice on your face," he said and left, looking to the relieved faces of both women.

The happy feeling he had bubbling inside of him was suddenly squashed, as soon as he closed the door behind him. Outside, his parents were waiting for him, the look on their faces was the one usually reserved to his cousin.

"We have to talk, Dudley," his father said, sternly.

Dudley sighed and walked to his room, as a man walking to his own execution.

* * *

It started as Dudley had predicted, his parents rambling and complaining about the unnaturalness and freakishness of it all, until it arrived to the part which he feared.

". . . why, Dudders?"

"Why what, mother?"

"Why are you helping that . . . that thing?" she asked with disgust.

"That thing, mother, has a name, and it is Harry. Harry Potter. And he is the last link you have to your family."

"Why are you defending him, son?" Vernon asked, surprised with the outburst.

"For several reasons, first because he's a human being and he deserves to be treated as such, second, if you didn't realize it yet, he saved my life last year, so I do believe he deserves my respect," he replied as evenly as he could.

"B-but I-I thought y-you hated him . . ." Vernon said, flummoxed.

"No, Father, you hated him, I just followed, not knowing better. Now I do," Dudley replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Petunia covered her mouth with her bony hand, surprised with his son's reply.

"H-he did something to you, w-with th-that thing of his. . ." she said, scared.

"His magic, mum?" he asked, softly. "No, he didn't, besides, he can't, remember?" he tried to appeal to their logic. "Tell me, mum, did Aunt Lily change so much after she discovered she was a witch?"

That stopped Petunia cold.

"Don't you dare bring her name to this," she seethed.

"Why not, mother, because you were jealous of her?" he barreled on. "Because she was a witch and you weren't?"

The resounding 'crack' of the strong slap came as a surprise to Dudley. His mother covered her mouth with both hands in shame, she had never hit him, not even as a child.

"I guess that it is true that the truth hurts," Dudley said, caressing the imprint of his mother's hand on his cheek, sadness clear in his face. His Father was divided between imitating a fish and growing angry. "Well, I don't know if I deserved that, mum, but I guess it answered my question. But tell me, was she so different from the sister you grew up with, or was she the same, with just something else?"

Petunia remained silent, but Dudley noticed that she was thinking about it. Vernon decided to intervene.

"She was an aberration, as was that no-good husband of hers," he snarled, trying to defend his wife.

"No-good, Dad? The same no-good who paid for this house, your car, my presents? Is this the same man we're talking about?" Dudley asked, angrily.

"H-how?" Vernon asked, blanching.

"Harry told me. Did you truly think it would be a secret forever, Dad? Are you so stupid?"

"Don't talk to me like that, young man, I'm still your father, I demand respect!"

"Yeah, I guess you do. Demand, that is," Dudley said, the same sadness from a few moments ago back again, full force. "Dad, Harry is a wizard, he won't be living here forever and he will take charge of his own life. He already discovered what you've been doing all these years, and that, I believe, is what saved your life. Can you believe what would have happened if he discovered it after he was free to do magic at will?"

Vernon had the decency to lose all color from his face, and so did Petunia.

"That's right, Dad," Dudley confirmed, concluding what his parents were thinking. "Now, Mum, about Aunt Lily, why did you hate her? Let me guess, she went to that school of theirs, she came back during breaks, your parents were curious about what she was doing, and she had loads to talk about, so they forgot about you for a time, am I right?"

Petunia remained frozen as a statue.

"Then, she comes home one day, telling that she fell in love with a wizard, and that she'll marry him. He's rich, he's good looking and he'll take your sister from you. They marry, have a son and a madman attacks them one night, and the only survivor is your nephew, and somehow his mother trusts you to take care of him, the blood from her family will protect Harry and you and whoever lives with you for the time being. My question is, why did we hate him so much? He was a kid, he had no blame to what happened between you and your sister, so, why did we hate him so?"

"_Because he is a freak!_" Vernon bellowed.

"_He was a baby, Father!_" Dudley screamed back, arguing with his parents for the first time in his life. "That is not the true reason, _is it_? You were both jealous of what they had, _wasn't it_? _Wasn't it? WASN'T IT?"_ Dudley screamed, louder and louder.

"_YES!_" Petunia finally cracked, to both Vernon and Dudley's surprise. "Yes, was this the answer you're looking for? Yes, we were jealous of my sister and her perfect life," she said, crying.

The young man remained mute for a few moments, now his time to imitate a fish. He was almost certain what the answer would be that, but it was surprising, nonetheless.

"So, what is Harry's blame in all of that?" Dudley asked, and left his own room, leaving his mother and father behind, so he and they could think about it. Imogen was standing outside of Harry's room. He looked to her, a hint of a smile crossing her face.

"You did the right thing, Dudley," she said.

"Only problem was that I did it too late, miss . . . Sorry, I didn't catch your name," he asked.

"Imogen. You may call me Immie, though. But better late than never, young man."

"Perhaps," he replied, defeated. "I'm going for a walk, I need to think."

"Take care, on the first sign of trouble, come back home," she said.

"I will, thanks," he said and went downstairs.

* * *

Dudley walked around the neighborhood for a few hours, when he noticed the time, almost all the houses had their lights off, the only illumination being provided by the street lamps. He walked a bit faster, going straight to his house, when he noticed a car coming slowly down the street, as if searching for something. One of the windows opened, and a young woman motioned him to stop.

"Excuse me, do you know where number four, Privet Drive is?" she asked politely.

A flash of recognition passed between them as soon as she made the question.

"Are you a friend of Harry's?"

"Aren't you Harry's cousin?" they both asked at the same time.

"Yes, I am," they both answered at the same time as well, which gained a smile from each other.

"Sorry, Dudley Dursley," he spoke, extending his hand. The woman promptly scowled.

"Hermione Granger," she said, not grabbing his hand.

"I think Harry told you about me, huh?" he asked, not really surprised with her reaction. "I can imagine what he told you about me, and I think he wasn't wrong. Come on, my house is the fourth one back there. You can make the turn down the street, I'll be waiting at the door."

"How is he?" she asked, worried.

"He's better now, a few friends of his came earlier, and he is okay now, I guess. But come on, I guess he'll be happy to see you."

Hermione spoke to the woman driving the car, and they accelerated, while Dudley arrived at the now twice-repaired front door. In moments, they were parking in front of the house, Hermione bolting off the car like a bullet.

"Calm down, he's okay," he said, trying to reassure her.

"I want to see with my own eyes, if you please," she said, pointing to the still closed door.

"Sure, second floor, first door to the left," he said, opening the door. Hermione didn't even wait for an invitation, she ran inside the now darkened house, going upstairs two steps at a time.

* * *

**A/N: **And another one bites the dust. Okay, Dudley spoke with his parents. Should I press the issue further or not, meaning, should he tell them that he's gay?

**Kinsfire**: As we've talked privately, next chapter we'll see Mac explaining her actions, why she broke the rules. And unfortunately, she'll do it again, but with good cause this time.

**Abysslord:** Sorry, no Harry/Immie, not because of the age issue, but because she'll fulfill another role in his life. What it is, keep on reading . _**grins**_

Next chapter, the will of Sirius and huge surprises.

And as always, please review, I'd like to know how I'm going.

BigHead


	8. Brittle Dragon

Chapter 8 - Brittle Dragon

Hermione arrived at Harry's door in a flash. The room was darkened and the door was locked shut. A whispered and risky 'alohomora' dealt with the lock and she entered the room with silent steps, wand in hand. As soon as she cleared the door, a wand tip touched her neck.

"Drop the wand," a serious voice whispered in her ear.

The young witch cursed internally, blaming herself for the impulsiveness in wanting to see her friend. This had almost killed her at the Ministry, and now she was at the mercy of an unknown. Without option, she let the wand clatter to the ground. Immediately the wand at her neck disappeared, but she could sense it was still hovering close.

"Now, Ms. Granger, care to tell me why did you sneak up on us?"

"Wha...? Us?"

The light was turned on, and she finally noticed what was going on. Harry was snoring softly on his bed, and the person who had disarmed her was an older woman, but not much so, dressed in comfortable sleeping clothes.

"Who are you? What happened to Harry?" she asked, finally noticing the swelling on his face.

Dudley finally arrived at the door, being followed by Hermione's mother.

"The swelling is my fault," the fat teenager said, winning a glare from both new visitors.

"Before you go jumping into conclusions, allow me to explain and introduce myself. Name's Mac Xavier, I'm Harry's Occlumency teacher. Harry was attacked earlier tonight by Voldemort, and ole snakebreath was in the process of turning my student's brain into roadkill. Dudley here tried to give him some thing for the pain, but Harry wasn't being very cooperative, so he decided to do it in a more . . . er, physical way, hence the nice shiner he's now sporting. But don't worry, he's under a potion now, and I've reinforced his shields for the night, I believe he'll have a peaceful night," she said, while grabbing Hermione's wand and handing it back to her.

She looked between Harry and Mac, growing even more confused. Occlumency teacher? Harry hadn't told her anything about it to her on his letter.

"Ah, Dudley, Immie is sleeping at the guest room, she told me she wouldn't bother you with her sleeping arrangements," the woman, Mac, said to Harry's cousin.

"What about clothes, bed sheets and pillows?" Dudley asked, curious.

"Magic, remember?" she replied, smartly.

"Ah, yes. I think I'll go to bed then, you think you'll manage with them?" Dudley asked, pointing to the new visitors. "You can help yourselves at the kitchen, I don't think mum will bother much after all that has been happening."

"Don't worry, we'll manage. And Dudley, Harry heard the argument, and his exact words were 'Finally someone I can like in this damned family.'"

The fat young man smiled sheepishly. "Well, I guess it was worth it, then. Ladies, a pleasure," he said, and walked to his room.

After he locked the door to his room, Hermione regained her voice. "What was that?", she asked, dumbfounded.

"I think I have a lot to explain. Can we go to the living room? Harry's the only one under a potion, and as much as I don't care about the senior Dursleys, there are other people sleeping up here," Mac said, pointing to the stairs.

"Sure," Angela answered for them both.

After the Granger women were seated at the sofa, the American woman conjured a tea set and a cup of coffee for herself.

"Now, I believe you ladies want an explanation," Mac said, after everyone had taken a sip of their chosen beverages.

"That would be appreciated. I'm Angela, Hermione's mother, by the way," the older woman said, politely.

"A pleasure. I can see that the looks run in the family," she said, to which the woman blushed prettily, Mac giving an internal smirk. Angela could easily pass for Hermione's older sister. "Well, first I have a question, I believe you are a day early, aren't you?"

"Hedwig came to my window early tonight bringing a note saying that Harry was in trouble, he was in a lot of pain. I sent it forward to professor Dumbledore and convinced my mother to come and see him tonight. And how do you know me?"

Mac was curious, why did the owl contact Hermione, and not the Headmaster straight away? Or perhaps another older wizard?

"How do I know you is part of the explanation. I believe you got a letter from Harry about a day or so ago, right?" To the witch's nod, she continued. "In the meantime, several things happened, some of them good, some not so good. I think you'll have to ask Harry about some of it, since what I'm telling you is second hand information. Harry met a woman yesterday, Imogen Cheatam, she's the one sleeping in the guest room. She was also the lawyer of Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, and she had a mission of delivering a series of things to Harry, and to help him against Voldemort."

"The will?" Hermione asked, somberly. One thing she would never forgive herself for.

"Nope. Books, Sirius' diaries, a few documents and things of the sort," the occlumens teacher said, correcting her. "She was also aware of how the Dursleys were treating Harry, but Harry himself asked her about not calling the Child Protection Services, there are some situations that make this impossible for now. Besides, some things had already started changing regarding the dynamics between Harry and Dudley," Mac said, and the young Gryffindor halted her with a gesture.

"I thought Dudley hated Harry, or at least that's what I've always guessed," the younger witch said.

"He did, but something happened to Dudley this last year and it got him thinking. The result is that they are trying to mend almost sixteen years of bad blood between them, and it seems to be working. What it is about, you'll have to ask Dudley himself," Mac said, and took another sip of her coffee. "Let me continue," she said, and the women nodded again. "So, Harry met Imogen and they talked. One of the things he asked her was to find a decent Occlumency teacher, one who wouldn't end up either in awe of the Boy-Who-Lived crap or scared the first time VoldieMoldie decided to drop on by unannounced. Thus, she got me, and to prove Harry I was the real deal I broke a rule from the manual and did a quick scan of his most recent memories, he had just read your reply and the ones from Ron and Ginny, and that's how I knew you."

"Oh, so you'll be the one that will teach him instead of Professor Snape?" Hermione asked.

"Snape, that's the name of the idiot who did _that_? And he is a _professor_? Who would be so _idiot_ to put another _idiot _in a position of teaching? The man is a _rapist_, for Christ's sake!" the occlumens ranted.

"_Rapist_?" both Hermione and Angela screamed.

"Legilimens are taught from early on to follow a strict set of rules, one of them is the one who forbids another to invade an unwilling mind. And seeing how Harry's shields were almost non-existent, he did it by using brute force. It was painful and worthless, what the man did was effectively mind-rape the boy," Mac said.

"But professor Dumbledore said that he was supposed to teach Harry how to protect himself from Voldemort using occlumency," Hermione said, growing scared and worried with the mental picture she was forming.

"Teaching occlumency? By using Legilimiency? That's bullshit!" Mac said, almost screaming

"Language, Ms. Xavier," the other two replied at the same time.

"Sorry, and it's Mac. Anyway, occlumency is a painful subject to teach, and we don't use legilimiency until the student has some measure of self-protection or at least the ability to tell the teacher when he doesn't wish the teacher to see a memory. What the man did was, in comparison, to teach Harry how to be a carpenter by hammering nails to his forehead." The comparison made hands go up to the aforementioned body part almost instinctively.

Angela was growing angered by the second. "Doesn't anyone love that boy upstairs? Why does he have to suffer so much?"

The artificial redhead gave a sarcastic laugh. "You don't know the half of it. Immie ended up discovering a biggest pile of crap than Harry already had, it seems that his relatives were skimming the money that was set up to take care of him to pay for this home, car and gifts for Dudley, while Harry himself was left with nothing but leftovers, if that."

Hermione promptly grabbed her wand, the knuckles on her hand going white with the effort. "Too bad I still can't do magic out of Hogwarts," she said between gritted teeth, her mother not far behind. Mac put a calming hand on her arm.

"Don't worry, either of you. Measures are being taken to deal with the waste of space upstairs, and they are too scared of Immie, myself and Harry to do anything else. As for the rapist, I'll deal with him as soon as I meet the idiot."

It was a hard pill to swallow, the Hogwarts student thought, but it seemed that Harry was being taken care of by competent people, who, if not family, were at least friendly.

"Excuse me, Ms. Xav. . . Mac, but you said Harry himself told his lawyer not to call CPS, even with all he's been through. Why is that?" Angela asked after a while.

"Blood protection, mum," Hermione answered instead, "I forgot to tell this to you and Dad, it seems that when Harry's mother sacrificed herself for him, she ended up setting up a blood protection with him, but to do that he needs to stay near his mother's blood for a while during the year. It is the safest place for him outside of Hogwarts, if you do not consider his relatives' actions."

Angela didn't understand it, but she knew the daughter she had, and decided to take it on face value.

"Look, I know things were not easy for Harry, but I believe that now there are people who are doing what they can so the boy can have the best life possible. Immie, myself, you ladies, even Dudley. So, at least for tonight, let's try to have a good night of sleep and think things better in the morning."

"You're right. I think I'll start the car, we can come back tomorrow," Angela said to Hermione, who simply nodded sadly. She wanted to talk with Harry, to see with her own eyes and heat from himself if he was all right.

"Don't do that, it is too late for you to return home tonight, besides you're both tired. We can set up something here, don't worry about accommodations," the American woman said. "Hermione here can even help me, from what I know she's the best student of Hogwarts."

"I can't do magic outside of the school, remember?" the student replied, still saddened.

"I don't think it will be a problem, Harry did some magic around here earlier today and last night, and so far we didn't have a whiff of a Ministry Owl. I guess that the old codger reinforced the wards around here, and they blocked the detection of spells."

"Old codger? Headmaster Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, surprised. "He was here?"

"Yeah, old Albie tried to do a voyeur in my head without my authorization, I didn't like it and kicked him out," the redhead said angrily, still pissed with the attempted invasion.

"Why did he do that?" the young witch asked.

"He doesn't know me, and I believe that he thinks I'm a risk to Harry. He could have asked, I could have answered. He didn't, I took exception. Two beds?" she said, cutting the conversation short.

Angela nodded, with a slight smile to her face. She had never seen her daughter doing magic, Hermione had always said that it was forbidden outside of school.

"You do the beds, I do the sheets and everything else?" Mac asked Hermione, having noticed the look in Angela's face.

"You sure this won't be a problem for Harry or me?"

"I don't think so, besides Immie is here, if the Ministry sneezes, she'll kick their collective sanctimonious, empty-headed asses. Will you both yell 'Language' every time I curse?" she asked, changing subjects right in the middle of the conversation.

"Probably. That reminds me, language, Mac," the now not-so-bushy-haired brunette said with a slight smile.

"You're wasting your time. I curse like a sailor on a five-day bender. And you know what, I think I'll contaminate you, your tight-lipped-stuck-up-your-asses attitude is annoying, and I'm not talking about you in particular, Hermione. Now, beds? I was right in the beginning of a dream with Angelina Jolie."

The young student looked surprised for a moment. "You're a lesbian?"

Remembering her lesson from early on and deciding to give people the benefit of a doubt, the occlumens replied. "Yes, why?"

"Nothing, just curious. I do like to study, as you probably already know, and I do think people make an interesting subject. Never met a lesbian before."

Mac smiled, putting a hand on Hermione's shoulder, who flinched slightly, hand moving to the wand but stopping as soon as the brain registered. The teacher noted it was an act of self-defense, more than any grievance against her sexual option or the fact she was holding her. Her heart tearing a bit, Mac spoke.

"Look, Hermione, I know you're a bookworm and you love to study, and while I can't condemn you about it, a small lesson is required. You don't live so you can learn everything that is to learn, you live because of the simple pleasure that is living."

"I don't understand," Hermione said, curious. "I do enjoy my life."

Mac sighed. "Okay, answer me a question then, when was the last time you smelled a flower just to feel its fragrance instead of testing to see if what you read about the smell in a book was right?"

Hermione remained silent.

"Or when was the last time you kissed someone on the mouth just for the heck of it?"

To this, the young Gryffindor reddened, blubbering an answer. "N-never k-kissed anyone on the mouth."

"See what I mean?" Mac said, crossing her arms and smiling. "Besides, from what I've already realized, Hermione, you'll be in too deep in this damned war. Learn to enjoy life while you can."

Hermione looked to her mother. "Don't look at me, I tend to agree with her, just not so much on the kissing for the heck of it. And I'll add something to what she said, not all lessons are in books," Angela said.

"Harry will need you, Mione, not as the genius you are, but as the friend you've always been. Leave the books for a while and start helping him other ways, it'll be best for the both of you," Mac finished. "Now, can we go back to Bed-Making Magical Way 101? Jolie's lips are waiting for me," the lesbian said, winking.

"Oh, all right. Tell me, are you always this open with people?" the young witch asked.

"Not as a rule, no, but it seems that Harry has a habit of turning everyone around him into a rule breaker."

"I know," Hermione said, smiling. "Mum, step aside for a moment?" Angela promptly answered by staying near the stairs.

With a quick swish of her wand, the sofa and the central table suddenly turned into two identical beds, and Angela noticed they were exact copies of Hermione's own bed at home. Mac then swished her own wand and bed sheets, six pillows and two extremely soft looking comforters were laid on the beds.

"I guess it is too hot for the comforters, but you never know. I'll leave Hermione to deal with the sleeping clothes. And don't worry about breakfast or the senior Dursleys, Immie and I will deal with it in the morning. See you ladies tomorrow, have a nice night."

Mac climbed the stairs, back to her bed in Harry's room. To Hermione and Angela it was still a long night of hushed conversation and very little sleep.

* * *

Harry woke up feeling rather relaxed, the pain he felt last night was now just a bad memory. Extricating himself from the tangle of his sheet and his own pajamas, he climbed out of bed just to notice that the changes made to his room the previous night were gone, the extra bed where Mac had slept was nowhere to be seen, neither was Mac.

He finally noticed a note sticking to his closet's door.

_Harry,_

_If you read this before me or Immie are back, then don't worry. She needed her power suit and I do need some things from my stuff. We'll be back by the time you need to be at Gringolds, or whatever the name of the place. And you have a guest waiting for you downstairs, Dudley sent your owl for some help last night before we arrived, and the crazy bird somehow ended up at the Grangers. So brush your teeth and make yourself slightly presentable before scaring the guests, okay?_

_See you soon,_

_Mac._

Harry smiled. _Hermione_.

He went to the bathroom, which thankfully was empty, and took a quick shower. He went back to his room and dressed in some nicer clothes, a polo t-shirt in a deep forest green, a dark beige cargo pants, socks and his boots. He stashed his wand in one of the pants' pockets and went downstairs. He heard the noise coming from the kitchen and walked in, with a smile in his face.

The room was crowded, and thankfully it only held people he liked. Remus, Immie, Mac, Dudley, Hermione and another woman that he concluded was Hermione's mother.

"Hey, guess who joined us, Sleeping Beauty!" Mac intoned with a smile.

Heads turned his way, and something happened when he locked eyes with Hermione. His breath halted for a moment longer, and he thought to himself, _since when did Hermione turned into such a beautiful woman?_

The same happened to Hermione, only in her case, the action was followed by a deep blush. An attentive observer might have noticed the small smirk present in Mac's face, who was at the moment checking something that Immie was reading with interest, but that was as far a reaction that someone had, aside from the duo directly involved.

"Hello, Harry," Remus was the first to talk to him.

Harry approached and gave the man a hug. "Hey, Moony. I guess this is it, huh?" he said in a small voice.

"Yes, I guess so," he answered back, and Harry noticed the shudder the last man worthy of the title of a Marauder gave away.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but we must be going," Imogen said. "Since you woke up so late, we'll have to postpone your breakfast for a little late. After the reading, we can sit up at the Cauldron and eat something, my treat."

"Sure," Harry answered, becoming more and more introspective. Hermione noticed it, and approached him.

"Hi, Harry," she said, and embraced him in a bone crunching hug.

"Hello, 'Mione," he smiled slightly.

"I'd like to introduce you someone. Harry, this is my mother, Angela Granger," she said, and the older woman approached.

"Really? If I didn't know better, I'd say she's your older sister," he said, and it apparently was the right thing to say, because the woman sprouted a dazzling smile. "A pleasure, Mrs. Granger. Sorry for the accommodations last night, but this house isn't exactly set up for a lot of people," he said, stretching his hand.

Angela bypassed the hand entirely, and mimicked her daughter's bone crunching hug. "Don't worry, Harry. Can I call you Harry? Good. I'm Angela. As I was saying, don't worry, it gave me the chance to see my daughter perform magic for the first time since she started Hogwarts. Besides, we came uninvited and in the middle of the night and by doing that we knew that we could end up having the door slammed in our faces," she said.

"While I live here, never," Harry said, which brought a smile to Hermione's face.

"Okay, time to go, the Goblins aren't very fond of late people, and besides I've invited an old friend to join us," Imogen said, removing a piece of rope from her briefcase. "Harry, you have the Black's signet ring? You might need it."

Harry shook his head negatively, and scrambled back to his room to pick the jewel. In a few seconds, he was back at their sides.

"Who's this old friend?" he asked, grabbing a piece of rope, everyone else except Dudley and Angela doing the same.

"You'll see," she said with a smile.

"Wait," Harry said, halting Imogen's action. "Dud, want to come with us? And you, Mrs. Gr… Angela?" he asked.

"I have to get back home, I have a patient later today, besides Hermione needs a change of clothes and some personal belongings. I'll come back later with everything," Angela answered.

"Can I?" Dudley asked after the other woman had spoken, surprised.

"Sure, just follow our lead, and if something happens, find somewhere to hide and wait for someone to come and get you, okay?"

"Okay," he said, and grabbed the end of the rope. Imogen tapped it with her wand, and the familiar tug behind navels signaled the activation of the portkey.

In less than a moment, Harry was landing quite hard on the floor of the Leaky Cauldron.

"The best Seeker at school and he can't learn to land properly," Hermione said, helping him to stand up.

"I will, someday. Just wait and see," Harry replied with a small smile. Imogen walked in the direction of Tom, asking him to guard a table for them for later.

"Okay, let's go," she said, and they went to the back. The lawyer tapped the bricks and Dudley's mouth fell as soon as he saw Diagon Alley.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Mac asked, to which the boy only nodded.

Harry noticed that Mac was walking with a cane, and he approached her. "What happened?" he asked, pointing to the cane. She was all right last night.

"This?" she said, lifting the cane. "I suffered an accident a long time ago, and before I could be taken to a Magical Hospital, I ended up being treated in a norm one."

"Norm?" Harry asked.

"What you Brits call muggles we call them norm. Anyway, I ended up with a platinum replacement at the top of my femur, which took forever to heal. And I couldn't simply disappear from the Hospital, we do have less laws regarding magic mixing with norms, but we are a careful bunch of people. When I got out, I went to a decent Magical Hospital, got the damned replacement removed and after a dose of Skele-Gro I was back into action, but something had already been damaged by the norms, so sometimes I do get some pain in my hip, hence the cane. But don't worry, this is a two-fold deal," she said, while they walked to Gringotts.

"How so?" he asked.

Mac looked around for a few moments, and since no one seemed to be paying attention to them, pushed the head of the cane slightly from the body, showing a small piece of sharpened steel. "I ended up having a ton of lessons on fencing and I'm quite good at it. Since we are dealing with VoldieMoldie, I decided on being prepared," she said.

"Good policy," he said, his planning mind suddenly taking another spin. "You know, I could learn how to use one of those," he said.

Mac looked at him. "Why am I not surprised? Let's think on how and when, okay? Besides, you will need equipment, a fencing foil, the suit, or we could learn the free style, if you want."

"Free style?" Harry asked, curious.

"Fencing is generally an exhibition sports, you have all the protection needed and you win by scoring points. I've learned it as such, but my master taught me beyond that, he taught me how to use it for real in combat situations, much like the Musketeers used to," Mac answered.

"Basically, how to kill people, right?"

"Yes," she answered seriously.

"Okay, let me think about it," he said.

"Take your time, I'm not going anywhere for the next few months."

Harry smiled sadly and kept on walking. He noticed a wizard reading a copy of the Prophet, and the cover article had a picture of something that seemed like rubble, and a Dark Mark hovering above it. In huge bold letters the article screamed. **Ministry Official Attacked. Death Eaters Destroy Bones Manor!**

"I need to buy a Prophet," he said to his lawyer.

"You can borrow mine later, we can even go visit Madam Bones if you wish, but right now we do have an unfortunate meeting with the Goblins. I know you don't want to go there, and I agree with you, but we need to. Think of it as closure," she said, holding his hand and giving it a small squeeze.

Harry nodded, and kept walking. The group arrived at Gringotts, and Imogen got Remus and Harry to a side.

"From here on, just us. We should take about an hour to settle everything," the lawyer said to the rest of the group.

"Don't worry, we'll walk around and meet you back here," Mac said, to which the rest of them nodded.

Parting ways, Harry, Remus and Imogen were taken to the presence of a Goblin. Waiting with him was a man, about the same age of Imogen, about six feet one, with sandy brown hair, gray eyes, a goatee and wearing glasses.

"Imogen," the man said, and gave her a small peck on the cheek.

"Hello, Len, how are you?"

"I'm fine, lass. Long time no see," he said, in a heavy Scottish brogue.

"True, but first introductions are in order. Carlen Ewen, let me introduce you to Harry Potter. Harry, this is a good old friend of mine, Carlen. He's a financial adviser, and I called him here so he could explain any doubts you might end up having regarding what Sirius left for you," Imogen said.

"Hi," Harry said.

"Hello, Harry, you may call me Len, all me friends do. And I was talking with me good friend Grabshrunk here, we shouldn't have a problem handling whatever Sirius left for ye," Len said amiably, pointing to the goblin currently sitting behind a desk.

"Thanks, but I believe Mr. Lupin here is also entitled for a share of whatever Sirius left behind, right?" Harry said, pointing to the werewolf.

"Sure, where are me manners? Carlen Ewen," the adviser said, shaking the offered hand.

"Remus Lupin. I've heard about you, Mr. Ewen. People say you're a genius regarding money investments," Remus said, to which the man reddened slightly.

"Jus' doing me job the best that I can, Mr. Lupin. Besides, having a friend like Imogen here is the best payment a lad like me might have," he said with a smile.

Grabshrunk gave the goblin equivalent of cleaning one's throat, and everyone took their seats.

"Hello, Mr. Potter, Mr. Lupin. You were both called here to hear the reading of the will of Sirius Orion Black, which we shall proceed to do in a moment. But first, I need the signet ring of the Black family," the Goblin said, producing a small wooden box from below the table.

Harry removed the ring from his pocket, and offered it to the goblin.

"I need you to wear it, Mr. Potter," Grabshrunk said.

"Oh, sure," the young wizard said, and put it on his middle finger on the right hand. The ring glowed blue for a second and Harry noticed it had resized to fit his smaller finger.

"Very good, now touch the box and state your full name."

Harry put his hand on the lid. "Harry James Potter."

The two locks on it opened automatically, and a moment later another box appeared right behind the first one. Every eyebrow in the room rose, even the goblin's. He checked the other box for a few moments, and turned back to Harry.

"Interesting, Mr. Potter. Somehow, by opening Mr. Black's will, you ended up fulfilling a magical contract regarding the Potter's will as well. This box here contains your parent's will. It was supposed to be opened on the eve of your seventeenth birthday, but the loss of your legal guardian and the confirmation of such by opening his will accelerated the process. Now we are in a quandary, which one would you like to be read first?"

"My legal guardian? Sirius? But I thought that the Dursleys were my guardians," Harry said, surprised, and turned to Imogen.

"You got me there, Harry. I still haven't checked the documentation regarding your guardianship, but I thought your parents wanted you to stay with the Dursleys," Imogen said, even more surprised.

Harry made the connection instantly. "Dumbledore. But why?" he said, growing angered by the second.

Remus spoke after thinking about it. "I believe that Dumbledore still thought you were at risk. With your parents dead and Voldemort apparently dead as well, the Death Eaters would probably end up searching for you to try and finish you off as revenge, and Sirius was the first one they would look for."

"Do you realize what this means, Remus?" Harry asked, angered. "If I was with Sirius, he wouldn't have gone looking for Peter, wouldn't have spent twelve years on Azkaban and probably wouldn't have died, and I wouldn't suffer fifteen years of abuse in the hands of those _people,_" Harry screamed, to which everything breakable in the room did, including his and Len's glasses. "Just to be his damned _weapon_," he murmured, only the werewolf with his enhanced senses hearing it. _Harry, a weapon?_

"I guess that my conversation with the Headmaster will be anticipated. Ohhh, _yes_," Imogen said, grinning ferally.

Harry controlled himself after a few moments. "Sorry about that," he said to the room in general.

"That's quite all right, Mr. Potter, it isn't the first time a wizard gets angered in here, and it certainly won't be the last," the goblin said, waving a hand and repairing most of the damage on the room, glasses included.

"If something is irreparably broken, I'll gladly pay for it," the young wizard said, surprising Grabshrunk.

"Don't be bothered by it, Mr. Potter, but it was very generous of you," the goblin said. "Now, which of the wills would you like to be read first?"

"Let's hear Sirius' first, then my parents'. One I know more or less what to expect, the other I'd like to have time to digest," he said.

"Very well," the goblin said, and opened the box with Sirius' will. From inside, he removed a small vial with a silver colored liquid inside, and a small note attached to it.

"This says, _To Harry, for a good laugh once in a while,_" he said, and handed the vial to Harry.

"What's this?" he asked to the more experienced wizards on the room.

"I believe it is a memory for a pensieve," Remus said.

"I think I'll have to buy one," he replied.

"We can do that once we get out of here," Imogen said.

The goblin then removed another vial with the same liquid, with another note attached.

"_To Moony, you need one as well._ Who is Moony?" the goblin asked.

'That would be me. Childhood nickname," Remus said, and the goblin handed him the vial.

Finally, the goblin removed the sealed parchment containing the will. Harry looked to the document and his head lowered.

The goblin opened the seal and unfolded the parchment.

"_This is the last will of Sirius Orion Black, current head of the Black family. To my good friend Remus John Lupin I leave the amount of one hundred thousand Galleons and the residence at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, with an addendum for it to be loaned as necessity dictates to the use of the Order of the Phoenix. Use them well, my friend, and know that nothing will ever repay the friendship freely given during all those years._

_To my godson, I leave the remainder of my earthly possessions, as described in the addendum to this Will, plus the title of Lord of the Crown, as issued by Our Majesty the Queen, by services rendered during history. Harry, this Lordship business is just for show, I can't even remember who won the bloody thing and why, but I couldn't let it simply go to Hell. Anyway, use the women wisely and the money sparingly. Or is it the other way around?_

_Sirius Orion Black"_

Harry gave away a small saddened chuckle with the last joke of Sirius. "It is finally true, isn't it?" he asked to a downcast Moony, who only nodded.

They hugged each other, tears falling freely for a while. A few minutes later, Harry composed himself, and the goblin gave him the will, the addendum and the key to the Black's vault.

Harry asked Len to approach and handed him the addendum. "Can you make any sense of these things?" he asked to the adviser.

The man looked the document briefly, the only reaction of surprise was a brief raise of an eyebrow. "That's really a lot of money, lad."

"Could I get Sirius back with it?" he asked.

"No," Len replied, saddened.

"Then it is worth nothing. But don't worry, I won't go mental and spend it all," Harry replied.

"I don't think you could, Harry. It _is_ a lot of money," Len repeated.

"Yeah. Can we go over my family's will?" he asked the goblin.

"Of course, Mr. Potter. Do you wish to go to a more private setting?" Grabshrunk asked.

"No need, they are my friends and advisers, I'd like them to stay, if possible," Harry said.

"Not a problem, Mr. Potter. Please, repeat the operation, put your hand over the box and state your full name," the goblin said, pulling the other box to the front.

"Harry James Potter," he said, and again, the locks popped open.

Inside, there were fewer items than in Sirius' box. Grabshrunk removed the first one, a small oval locket with a stylized 'P' engraved on it, held by a thin golden chain. Harry opened the locket, and inside there was an image of his parents holding a months old Harry in their laps. It was a park somewhere, and they looked extremely happy. The Boy-Who-Lived stood mesmerized for a few moments.

"Can I proceed with the reading, Mr. Potter?" the goblin asked.

"Sure, go ahead," Harry said, closing the locket and putting it around his neck and hiding it inside his shirt.

"_This is the last will of James Regis Potter and Lily Evans Potter. This should be simple and straightforward. We leave everything that we have to our son, Harry James Potter. If you are hearing this, Harry, this comes with an apology._

_Sorry we couldn't be there for you to see your seventeenth birthday, your mother hopes you will be a fine and beautiful young man with a heart of gold, and so do I, my son. We wrote this a few days before going into hiding, and if it all goes as expected, then we'll be having a good laugh over this silly will in a few years. If not, do know that we loved you very much, son, and hope for the best for you._

_Everything we could save from our home is stored in the vault at Gringotts and if you ever need a place to hide, home will always be the best place, it is where your heart is, and remember, once a Potter, always a Potter._

_We love you, son._

_James Regis Potter_

_Lily Evans Potter_"

"Thank you. Could we go check the vault?" Harry inquired, a single tear making a trek over his face.

"Of course, Mr. Potter, however you alone can enter the vault. Anyone else would suffer a painful death. I'll call someone to assist you."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said politely, surprising Grabshrunk.

"You are most welcome, Mr. Potter. Hope to be doing business with you soon," the goblin said.

"I hope so," Harry said, and a moment later another goblin was entering the room by a side door. Harry recognized the being immediately. "Hello, Griphook."

Griphook looked to Harry with something akin to surprise.

"Mr. Potter, a pleasure. I don't think you would have remembered me," the other goblin said. "Wizards in general do not pay attention to us."

"Well, I'm not your general wizard, right?" he replied sadly.

"That, Mr. Potter, you are not, and I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. Shall we go?" Harry asked, standing up.

"Over here," Griphook said, indicating the side door.

"We'll wait for you at the lobby, Harry," Immie said to him.

"Okay," he replied, distraught.

* * *

After a ride in the cart, to which Harry paid no attention, they arrived at a huge door vault, with a crest made of what looked like gold and silver. The crest was a stylized phoenix with two swords crossed at its back, and a scripted letter P at its front.

They disembarked from the cart, Harry holding the lantern for the small goblin.

"Put your hands at the door," Griphook said, grabbing the lantern from Harry.

"Do I need to say my name?" the wizard inquired.

"No, the door will recognize you in a different way."

Harry did as told, shaking slightly. Suddenly, he heard a voice in his head. It seemed like Legilimiency, but softer.

"_So, you are my last descendant. To whom I have the honor of speaking?_"

"H-Harry. Harry Potter. And who are you, sir?"

"_I am but a shadow, but if you wish for a name, you can call me William. So, do you wish to enter?_"

"I-if I can, sir, I'd like to," the wizard replied.

"_Then please, do so. It is always an honor to receive another Potter,_" the voice said and muted. The next moment, the massive door opened.

Behind of it, there was pitch darkness. Harry paid no attention to it, and walked in.

As soon as he set foot inside, torches began lighting up automatically, showing a huge space, probably as big as the Great Hall of Hogwarts. The entire vault was so filled with money that the coins were making piles into every available space. Aside from money, there was furniture, statues, paintings, trunks, weapons and all sorts of stuff. But what caught Harry's attention immediately was a letter resting atop a slightly old-looking trunk. Written on the outside was his name in a flowing script.

He opened it quickly but with care.

"_My beloved son Harry,_

_If you are reading this, it means that we are not there with you to share this moment, but hopefully Sirius is, and he annoyed you enough with tales of us. The trunk under this letter contains the mementos to join those tales, plus what we thought was the most important things from this vault._

_Before you do anything else, open it up and remove the ring box resting on top of everything else. To open it, do as you would do with the Map._"

Harry folded the letter and intoned.

"I solemnly swear I'm up to no good," and tapped the lid with his wand.

The locks opened, and he removed the box, giving a brief look at the rest of the stuff inside. Controlling the urge to check everything, he closed the lid once again and returned to the letter.

"_As you've realized, the idea for the password came from your father. Now, please put the ring on your finger, and no matter what you do, **DON'T TAKE IT OFF**."_

Harry removed Sirius' ring from his right hand and put it back on his left one. The new one he put on the place he had removed the previous one, and the ring glowed a fiery red for a few moments, an exhilarating sensation of well-being spread through his body. He kept on reading after the ring adjusted to his size.

"_It is the Potter family ring, and aside from enabling you to enter Potter Manor, it is an emergency portkey. Just will it to activate and you'll be transported to the manor, with whomever else you're holding at the moment._

_It, and the locket you've received with our Will are going to be very important, but the explanation for them can hold for a while._

_Now, to take the trunk with you, tap the uppermost bolt of the frame on the lid at the right side three times._

_There are more things to be said to you, son, but the family vault isn't the best place. So take the trunk with you and go somewhere comfortable, hopefully with a loved one and Sirius._

_Till the next letter, with love,_

_Mum._"

Harry folded the letter, not really knowing if he should laugh or cry. A trunk full of memories. He tapped the bolt three times and the trunk folded unto itself several times, finally turning into something roughly the size of a deck of cards. Harry grabbed the small trunk and stored it in a pocket, with the letter. He gave one last look to the vault, deciding to come back at a later date.

Griphook was dutifully waiting for him outside.

"It is a lot of money, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter, yours is a fairly old family, there is even an unconfirmed legend that the first Potter on these lands was the great-grandfather of Godric of Gryffindor."

Harry's eyes goggled.

"Wicked!" he exclaimed, borrowing a page from Ron's vocabulary. "Tell me, Griphook, the Founders had vaults?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter, they did, but to see them you must have the key to them," the goblin said.

"I wonder who has the keys to such a vault," Harry mused.

"Keys come in all shapes and sizes, someone might have it and not even be aware that he's holding it," Griphook said enigmatically.

Harry thought about it for a second, but shook his head.

"My friends are waiting for me, Griphook. Let's get back."

As soon as Harry stepped out of the vault, the massive door locked behind him. They climbed the cart and started the trek back to the surface.

"Could you make a list of everything that is in my vault and what I actually inherited?"

"Easily, Mr. Potter, as soon as we are back at the lobby."

"Thank you."

* * *

Harry arrived back to a sea of expecting faces. Hermione was the first to act, repeating the strong hug from early.

"Hey," she said, buried in his neck. "Are you all right?"

"I don't know how I am right now, but I have a lot to think about," he replied.

Immie approached him.

"I don't know how you are for breakfast, but I do know that ice cream is a great thinking food," the lawyer said, almost as if reading his mind.

"Right she is, Harry," Len said. "Come on, all of us, my treat," the financial adviser said, clasping him on the shoulder.

Griphook approached, bringing a sheet of parchment with him.

"This is what you asked of me, Mr. Potter. We hope that you'll keep doing business with us," the goblin said.

"I'll most certainly do. But I think Mr. Ewen here will be doing most of the business in my name, if this isn't a problem," Harry replied.

"No problem, Mr. Ewen is an excellent professional and he's considered a goblin friend," the small creature said. "Until next time, Mr. Potter."

"Bye, Griphook."

* * *

Harry handed the parchment to Len, who was near the exit.

"Here, see what you can make of this," Harry said, without even looking to the paper.

"Sure," the man said, briefly checking the paper. He stopped walking, Imogen bumping at his back.

"What?" Imogen asked, while Harry walked away, going after Hemione, Mac and Dudley.

"Do you know who that wee lad is?"

"Harry, why?"

"'Harry why' is now probably the richest wizard on the planet and one of the richest muggles, and he doesn't even care about it."

Imogen wasn't that surprised, neither was Remus, who approached having heard the conversation with his enhanced senses. "You know a little of what he's been through, would you be any different?" the werewolf asked.

"I don't know," he said, after thinking a bit. "And what should I do with his money?"

"What do you mean?" Lupin inquired.

"My clients usually trust me to turn them richer, but I don't think Harry will even care about this. So, what should I do?"

Imogen, in turn, smiled slightly. "Harry has a plan, Len, and I can bet some galleons he's thinking how you and the money fit in those plans. But now, let's focus on ice cream, shall we?"

"After you, lass," Len said politely, and Lupin followed right behind them, tapping the vial with the memory resting inside one of his coat's pocket.

* * *

Harry was walking to Fortescue Parlor with Hermione at one side and Mac to the other, Dudley still in awe a few feet behind. People on the street were noticing him and he was growing more and more worried.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he groaned low.

"What?" Hermione asked, looking around.

"People are starting to notice me. This is not good," he replied.

"Calm down, it's broad daylight and there are Aurors nearby. Not even Voldemort is that stupid," the young witch said, looking around discreetly.

Suddenly, several loud _pops_ were heard right down the street. In their wake, a dozen Death Eaters appeared in full regalia.

"You were saying?" Harry looked to Hermione.

"Oh, bloody hell," the witch cursed.

"Let's find somewhere to hide, this place will turn into a war zone," Mac said, pushing Harry by his sleeve. The panic had already set in, and people started running in several directions, away from the evil wizards.

The Boy-Who-Lived was about to follow her when the best seeker reflexes of Hogwarts noticed that one of Voldemort's followers was holding on to something, or better, someone.

"They have a hostage," Harry said.

"_Wha . . . Har. . ._"

Time froze to Harry James Potter, the same way as it did when he noticed the snitch during a game of Quidditch.

He locked the position of each enemy player on his mind, in this case the Death Eaters, the field, or better, the Alley and the other players between him and the snitch, or hostage.

"_. . ry, don't be stupid,_" Hermione said.

"I have a plan. Mac, give me your sword."

Harry felt the not-so-delicate invasion of his mind by his teacher, who got his entire plan with the speed of thought.

"Good luck," she said, while unsheathing her sword and giving it to him. "We'll distract them. _GO_!"

Harry bolted, sword in one hand, wand in the other.

"_WHAT?_" Hermione screamed, looking to the Occlumency Master.

"Scream later. Follow my lead!"

* * *

Harry ran pell-mell to the Eaters, he believed he had around fifteen seconds of distance to the man holding the hostage.

An eternity, by his accounts.

He dodged right, trying to hide his well-known face in the sea of running bodies, and then Mac's first spell crossed the air faster than he could follow. The ground a couple of feet in front of the Death Eaters started spewing smoke and sparks, like a firework. Hermione copied the movement a second later, her own spell hitting the middle of the group.

Twelve seconds.

Confusion had set among the wizards, and to help it further, Harry sent a couple of bludgeoning spells among them in quick succession. They were packed so tightly together that he ended up hitting four of them.

Ten seconds.

The Eaters started fighting back, four different spells going four different ways. Luckily, none hit a living body, but a large window from one of the stores blew up.

Eight seconds.

Harry sent a Reducto spell right in front of the farthest Death Eater. The ground exploded as if a grenade had hit it, sending two more flying away.

Six seconds.

The Death Eater holding the hostage noticed him, but the dead weight on his hands was making it impossible for him to use his wand.

Four seconds.

"_There, Potter!_" the masked figure screamed to the man right at his side.

Three seconds.

The other Eater noticed the running boy with green eyes and scar and pointed his wand to him. Harry cast a Protego spell without breaking his pace.

Two seconds.

"Avada Ke_aaaargh!_" the man screamed, his hand falling to the ground still holding a wand.

One second.

Time stopped again for the young Harry Potter. He was right on top of the Death Eater, and he noticed a brief flash of something black and metallic disappearing in the confusion. Harry swung the sword straight at the arm holding the hostage, opening a severe cut in it. The Death Eater let the body go, screaming, and Harry promptly dived to it, holding firmly.

Several wands pointed to him, and in a brief flash, the air was covered in a coruscated rainbow of spells.

Harry, thankfully, was no longer there. Nor was the hostage.

* * *

They reappeared on an empty hall, a place that Harry had last seen when he was less than a year old.

Potter Manor.

Thank Merlin, the ring had worked.

Harry felt the body groan, and he gently put it on the ground. The heavy black shroud covering him seemed like an overly large Death Eater robe, but it was stained with blood and very dirty. The young wizard then proceeded to remove the garment, having great care while doing so, it could still be a trap. The legs were badly broken, and one of them had a piece of bone sticking out of the skin. The abdomen was so heavily covered in bruises that Harry couldn't say its original color. He was naked, and someone had singed his parts with fire, the pubic hair almost completely gone. All of his fingers were broken, and his left arm was dislocated as well. He was bleeding from several different cuts, spread through his body.

The Gryffindor then finally arrived to the head, it was so swelled that he didn't recognize the face. The hair had been apparently ripped from his head by large clumps.

The hair.

That's when Harry recognized the young man he was currently holding.

"_Malfoy?_"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Yay, another cliffie. Heh. Sorry about the long delay in posting, but RL's being nasty to this fanfiction writer here. Be ever thankful that my faithful Palm is a wonder and I have a long journey from home to work and vice versa on a bus, most of this chapter was written using a stylus. And once again thanks Brian, CJ, J, Len and Mac for the input and the friendship.

Next chapter, Harry is at his old home with a near-death Malfoy. How will he solve the problem? Is it another trap?


	9. Saying what you want to hear

Chapter 9 – Saying what you want to hear.

Harry took another look at Draco Malfoy, the badly beaten Draco Malfoy, his mind in turmoil.

He had saved Malfoy.

What if it was a trap? He was a wannabe Death Eater, if his behavior in the recent past was any indication.

Harry distanced himself from the body, one hand clutching the pommel of Mac's sword while his other held his wand at the ready. Looking everywhere at once, waiting for an attack, he failed to take notice of his family ring glowing a pale shade of red.

After a few moments, noticing that no one had followed them, he relaxed just enough to escape the fight or flight mindset.

Now he was able to stop and evaluate the situation. He was in his home, which, aside from the furniture, was apparently deserted, he had someone who was severely injured with him and he had no idea where the manor was located or how to leave the place.

Thank Merlin, the place was at least clean, they could have landed in almost sixteen years of dust.

Wait a minute, clean?

Acting on a gamble, he called. "Is there someone there?"

A familiar pop was heard, and an old-looking house elf appeared, a female by the looks of it.

"Master James, you back?" the elf asked, teary eyed.

"No, I'm not James, I'm his son, Harry," the young wizard replied with a smile.

"Young Master? You returned? Misty is so happy to see Young Master Harry," the elf said, bouncing up and down with glee. "Master has returned to stay?" she asked, hopeful.

Harry had so much to ask the old elf, but his friends were right in the middle of a fight.

"More or less, Misty. I've returned, yes, but I can't stay right now. I need you to do two things for me."

Misty nodded excitedly, happy to be of service again after so long. "Anything, Young Master, anything."

"Ok, first I need you to take him," he said, pointing to an unconscious Draco, "to St. Mungo's. Can you do it? You know where it is?"

"Yes, Young Master, Misty can. Misty took Master James several times there when Master James was Misty-size."

"Good. Now, I need to get back to Diagon Alley. Is there a fireplace nearby?"

The elf smiled. "Something better, something Mistress Lily did, Mistress hated ash travel. Come, Misty shows."

"We can't leave Draco like this," Harry said. He might hate the git, but he didn't save him by risking his own neck just to see him die.

Misty waved her hands and Draco was enveloped in a yellow light. "Boy frozen. Not good for long, but enough. Go now, Misty shows."

"Thank you, Misty."

The old elf lady smiled, and they ran down a long corridor. They finally stopped at a set of double doors, which Misty opened with her magic. The room behind was fairly large, and by being bare of everything, furniture, paintings and the like, it seemed even larger. Several runes were carved along the edge of a circle, covering most of the available stony ground.

"Step inside the circle, Master, and say where Master wants to go, then Master goes," Misty said, pointing to the circle.

"Thank you, Misty. Now, take him to St. Mungo's and let the healers take care of him, but protect him and once they finish come back here, okay?"

"Yes, Young Master, Misty takes good care of Young Master's friend."

Harry couldn't waste time explaining his relationship with the Malfoys. "Good, I'll be back as soon as I can," Harry replied instead while entering the circle.

"Good luck, Master Harry."

"Thank you," he said, sword and wand at readiness. He would have to end up close to the battle, but he couldn't appear in the middle of the crossfire. "Let's see if mum was really good with her rune magic. Flourish and Blotts," he intoned clearly. The runes glowed briefly and the Boy-Who-Lived disappeared without a sound.

He wasn't immediately transported; the room simply took a grayish tone, as if he was in a black and white picture. Misty was frozen, but Harry noticed it was part of whatever spell he had activated, and he also noticed that the air was filled with hundreds upon hundreds of very thin silver strands flowing gently on an imperceptive ethereal wind, every one of them seemingly starting where he was standing.

Harry also noticed that one of them glowed brighter than the rest. Deciding to make a small test, he touched a non-glowing one with a fingertip. Instantly, in his mind's eye, he saw another place, a room of some sort which he didn't recognize, and he felt a small pulling sensation at his back. He realized that if he'd let the pull take him, he would be transported to the room. Smiling, he touched the glowing one.

Immediately, he saw the interior of the bookstore, which was apparently empty and whole. Letting himself be caught by the pull, he felt as if he was sliding over a very slippery surface at an incredible speed.

The sensation of being pulled finally came to an end and Harry found himself in the same grayish-looking space, the major difference being he was now standing in the well-known interior of the bookstore.

Using the same technique as if he was canceling a spell with his mind, he saw a part of the grayish space regain color, as if a doorway was opening.

No one was present to see The-Boy-Who-Lived appear from thin air, ready to fight, wand in one hand and a bloodied sword on the other.

Harry hid behind a bookcase, trying to hear something outside. It was awfully quiet, it meant that either the battle was over, or that his mother had done something wrong and now he was stuck somewhere that looked like Diagon Alley but wasn't.

Deciding to trust his deceased mother, he got out from behind the bookcase and walked to the front door, crouched.

Risking a quick glance outside, he saw Hermione and Mac arguing with a lot of hand movements and pointing with an apparently nervous Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Harry relaxed and stored his wand back in his bloodstained pants' pocket, but within easy reach. With one hand now freed, he opened the front door and walked to the sunny outside.

Hermione was the first one to notice him, and she bolted like a missile in his direction. Harry heard the black Senior Auror scream several times "Don't shoot" up and down the street, which he noticed, was crammed with the magical police officers.

His best friend ignored his bloodstained clothes and grabbed him as if it was the last thing she'd ever do.

"I hate you sometimes," she mumbled into his neck.

"Why?" Harry asked, smirking.

"You'll be giving me white hairs before my time. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, none of this blood is mine. I'll explain it all in a bit."

"And I would like very much to hear it, Mr. Potter," Shacklebolt said sternly. Soon, all of his friends were surrounding him, demanding explanations.

"Can we go to Fortescue? I still haven't eaten breakfast," Harry asked politely.

The Senior Auror looked around, checking his own personnel and eventually agreed. They started walking, and Harry handed the sword back to Mac with a smile.

"Thanks," he said to his teacher.

"Don't think you got away scot-free, there's a lot of yelling to be done, but I can wait my turn," she said, smirking. Harry blanched. "Don't worry much, it was stupid, but very brave and it worked. So, I'll go easy on you."

Harry smiled slightly with the somewhat awkward praise. The entire group walked into the shop, Shacklebolt going to talk with Mr. Fortescue, who was clearly shivering.

After a brief exchange of words between them, a glance and a smile by Mr. Fortescue in Harry's direction, the group was quickly seated.

Harry looked to his cousin first thing. The young man looked scared, but not much more than the rest of them.

"You all right, Dudley?"

"More or less. It was scary, I'll say, but I did hide as you've told me, and it ended pretty quickly. Besides, there were people even more scared than I was, so I don't feel so bad. But if you don't mind, I'd like to go back home after breakfast."

The young wizard nodded, at least happy that none of his friends were apparently hurt. The Auror finally cast a silencing charm around the table after they were seated and the orders had been placed.

"Now, Harry, care to tell me what happened?" the black man asked.

And the Gryffindor Seeker gave him a brief resume of their morning, the visit to Gringotts and their intention to come to the parlor to eat some breakfast. Then the multiple apparition of the Eaters and how Harry had spotted the hostage. Kingsley stopped the narrative to ask a few questions.

"Who was the hostage?"

"Malfoy," Harry said with a hint of disgust, surprising Hermione.

"Senior?" the Auror asked with a raised eyebrow.

"What do you mean Se... ," Harry muted and blanched, connecting the dots.

"They escaped?" Hermione asked, voicing his fears.

Shacklebolt nodded sadly. "Last night. We lost seventeen of our own in the raid, all Kissed."

Harry slammed his hand on the table, hard enough to make the cutlery jump. His face was hard and angry. "What is Fudge doing?"

"Covering it up, he doesn't want to start a panic," the Auror growled.

"That's stupid, people need to know, they need to be..." Hermione started to rant. Kingsley held her arm lightly, making her stop.

"I know and I agree with you, but we have our hands tied, he promised to sack the first one who spoke about it."

Hermione turned even redder than Harry was.

"What about Madam Bones? I know her enough to see that she wouldn't let Fudge go ahead with this rubbish," Imogen asked.

"She's still at St. Mungo's. She's okay for now, but the healers wanted to keep her for another day."

"What happened with her?" Harry asked, remembering the strong woman who was also the aunt of his friend Susan.

"She lost her lower right arm during the attack. Thanks to you, they got away with their lives," the black man said, showing perfect white teeth.

"What do you mean 'thanks to me'?"

"Ms. Bones was yelling for whoever wanted to hear that she and her aunt were only alive because of some help you gave her in Defense last term."

Harry took another page from one of his friends' books and started banging his head on the table, hard. Hermione followed not a second behind.

"'Teach us, o Great Harry. We need you, o Great Savior!' Thanks loads, Mione," the wizard replied, sarcastically.

"Hey, don't go blaming me. Besides, they are alive, I believe, thanks to _your_ training, otherwise we might be going to a funeral to cry the murder of a friend," the witch said.

"Okay, all right, but at least give me some good news and tell me that Skeeter was covering penguin migrations in Antarctica?" Harry asked, stopping the head banging for a moment.

"Sorry, Harry, she arrived at the hospital even before I did," Shacklebolt said with a grimace.

"She wouldn't _dare_!" Hermione said, the glass of water in front of her exploding with the bout of uncontrolled magic. "Sorry about that," she said, going Weasley-red instantly.

"No problem," said Remus after a quick drying spell.

"It wouldn't last forever, Mione, we both knew that," the Boy-Who-Lived said.

"What wouldn't?" the Auror inquired.

"We have some blackmailing material on that lying hag, but we knew it wouldn't hold that quill for long," the girl answered.

"Blackmail?" more than one voice asked.

"Doesn't matter right now," she replied, while her best friend kept on banging his head. "Stop that, Harry, you'll end up with a headache."

"Already have one," he mumbled.

"Color me stupid, but can someone explain what the sodding hell you're all talking about?" Dudley asked.

They explained briefly about who Rita Skeeter was and what she had done in the past to both Harry and Hermione.

"Can't you do something about it, Immie? I gather this is something they can be sued about, if all that they said are lies," Dudley pointed out.

If anyone had seen the light blinking inside the lawyer's head, no one bothered to mention. She turned to Len, sitting right at her side, whispering something to him for a few moments. Remus was straining to hear it, only getting some parts, but what he did hear was enough to make him smile internally.

Len nodded and turned to Harry, who was now paying attention to them.

"Harry, Imogen here gave me a wonderful idea, but to fulfill it, I'll need to be legally constituted as your adviser. I can have the contract ready by tomorrow morning, if you wish."

"Sure, but what is this about?" he asked, eyeing the duo.

"Your cousin here gave me a wonderful idea. Let's just say that you'll have some interesting early birthday gifts," his lawyer answered mysteriously. "You'll need me or the contract to start it?" she turned to Len.

"Nay, and to be honest I'll start right now. You'll need me for something, Auror Shacklebolt?"

"Did you see anything different than the rest of them?"

"Nay, to be honest I saw even less, I was too far behind," Len replied.

"Then go ahead, but I'd like you to go to the Ministry to sign a statement," the black man said.

"Saying I didn't see a thing? Isn't that a bit counterproductive?" the Scotsman asked.

"Orders from Fudge, we have to go over this one with a skipascope," he tried.

"Microscope," both Harry and Hermione replied at the same time. Shacklebolt looked to them, puzzled. "Never mind," they said together, and laughed.

Len sighed, nodded, shook Harry's hand, excused himself and left.

"Now, could we go back to answering questions?" Kingsley asked the table.

"Sure, where did I stop?" Harry asked and Remus answered for him.

The Gryffindor student backtracked a bit and retold part of the story, lying about his family's ring and where he ended up. Since only Mac knew how he had done it, and she was bound by her oath, he decided to go over a different tactic.

"So, let me see if I have this straight. Your lawyer here has given you a permanent portkey to a safe house, per you own request. You used it to jump with Malfoy Jr. to this safe house, where you met the house elf responsible for the house's safekeeping, asked her to transport Malfoy to the Hospital while you came back here, correct?"

"Yes," Harry said, poker-faced. It was more or less true, from a certain point of view.

"How did you come back?" the Auror asked.

"She made a brief stop here with only me before going back to the house and Malfoy," Harry lied.

Shacklebolt looked pensive for a few moments, trying to find some holes in his story. "You wouldn't mind telling me where this safe house is, Harry?"

"Sorry, Kingsley, but I wish some things to remain private, only I know where it is since Imogen was obliviated of the address. But does it matter so much to the investigation?" Harry asked, knowing that the Auror was just asking to report to Dumbledore. He really wouldn't like Dumbledore to know he had a way to escape his clutches.

"No, it doesn't," Kingsley said, face neutral. "So, let's go over it once again to see if we missed anything."

Harry retold the entire story again, and by sticking close to a version of truth, he had no problems with the Auror.

"What I don't understand is how Ms. Xavier here knew exactly what you would do," the black man pointed.

The young wizard sighed. He knew that Dumbledore would know the moment Shacklebolt left, but some small concessions had to be made. Besides, he would find out, eventually.

"I hired her as my Occlumens teacher, and she read the plan from my mind, that's how," he said, slightly irritated in having to reveal the information.

Kingsley's eyebrows rose to a non-existent hairline.

"That's good, Harry," he lied smoothly. "Now, Ms. Xavier, are you aware…" the man started, but before he could get on a roll, Mac slapped a small plastic card right in front of him. It was charmed to look like a Muggle's driver license, but when the Auror grabbed it, it changed to an identification of the witch as a Master Occlumens and Legimiens, as recognized by the International Occlumency and Legilimency Committee.

"Yes, I'm aware, Auror, and we are already bound by the Apprenticeship contract, as stipulated by law. Does this answer your questions?" Mac said.

The man handed the identification card back to her. "It does, Ms. Xavier. Sorry if I sounded rude, Harry here is too important," he said, slipping slightly.

"To the Interfering Headmaster or to the Homicidal Madman?" she asked with a sneer.

"To everyone. He's the Boy-Who-Lived, after all," he said, slightly flustered.

"No, you twit. He's Harry. A kid with a world of scared people hanging to his back," the woman replied, hotly. "Now, do you have anything else to ask that doesn't involve the official investigation or you report to Dumby?"

Shacklebolt restrained himself from lashing out. He had to remain cool; he was here in an official capacity. He asked a few more questions to all the involved parties, and was able to form a coherent image of everything that happened at the Alley.

"Now, what happened after I departed?" Harry asked, as soon as the questioning ended.

"Apparently the Death Eaters, having being robbed of Malfoy for whatever intent and purposes they had, decided to flee instead of facing us, but they left their fallen comrades behind. We have six men in holding cells at the Ministry, ready to go over questioning. And a hand, still holding a wand, which doesn't belong to any of them," the member of the Order said.

"Doesn't the Auror who struck him knows who he is?" Harry asked.

"Struck? Harry, none of us managed to throw a single spell," the Senior Auror pointed.

"Well, one of your Aurors cut one of the Death Eater's arm, he was almost casting a killing curse at me," Harry pointed. "Besides, who said it was a spell? I had the glimpse of something small, metallic and black. Never saw the arm or anything else, though," he said, pensive. He didn't notice Mac's eyes hovering around the room and fixing at a single point near the front door.

"No one was using a sword or something of the genre today, Harry. You sure?"

"Absolutely. Whoever it was, he or she saved my life," the Gryffindor said.

"I'll have to check it again. Wonder if anyone else saw anything," he sighed. "Does anyone have any idea what they wanted with Malfoy?"

Hermione scrunched her eyes, mind deep in thought.

"You said Malfoy was beaten, right?" she asked to his best friend, and he confirmed it with a nod. "Question is, why?"

"To hurt him?" Harry stated.

"That is obvious, Harry. But why go and do it physically when an Unforgivable has the same effects?"

"Excuse me, but what is an Unforgivable?" Dudley asked.

Hermione took the responsibility of answering and explained about the three curses, the young muggle understanding it, more or less, and offered his own comment.

"So, you mean they are able to cause pain without leaving a mark on the person who suffered it?"

"Correct. And, from what Harry said to us, it is pretty effective," Hermione said to Harry's cousin.

"You suffered it?" Dudley asked, eyes wide looking to his cousin.

"A few times, now," he replied evenly.

Dudley shut up for a few moments, deeply surprised. The Auror spoke again. "Then why did they beat Malfoy?"

"I have a few theories," Hermione said, taking a breath to start. "One, Malfoy was part of a trap and perhaps Harry sprung it too early, or not at all," she said, pointing to him.

"Trap? For me?" Harry asked.

"I don't know for sure, but I don't think so. You've spent too little time in the Alley for them to plan something. Besides, Voldemort doesn't strike me as someone who doesn't plan things through."

Shacklebolt and Harry both nodded. "Me too, he's the Heir of Slytherin, it's in his blood to be cunning and he's too smart to be caught unprepared. What else you've got?" the Auror asked, curious by her logic. She would make one fine investigator if she decided to pursue the Auror's path after Hogwarts.

"A show of force," she replied.

"There are better ways to do that than beating a young man, Ms. Granger," he pointed.

"Perhaps, and perhaps not, but it depends on the message they want to send. A pureblood heir, whose father is a well-known Death Eater, is spanked until near death. What does this tell people?"

"That no one is safe?" Harry quipped.

"No, I don't think so. Hurting a pureblood purposefully would make the rest of the families question Voldemort's ideals and drive. What else remains?"

"Only thing I can think off right now is that Malfoy did something to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or one of his associates and he decided to enact some punishment," Shacklebolt said.

"But why go the muggle way about it? It is too low a punch for Voldemort's fabled superiority, isn't it?" Hermione asked, clearly in doubt of her own logic so far.

"I don't know. Perhaps only Mr. Malfoy can give us those answers, if he knows them. For now, I have to ask a few more questions around. I'll try to keep your name out of most of the reports or downplay your participation to a minimum, but I believe this will be nearly impossible with so many witnesses," he said to Harry.

"Thank you anyway, Auror Shacklebolt," Harry said, appreciating the gesture.

"If you need or remember anything, don't hesitate to call me or one of the Order members, okay?"

"Sure," Harry replied.

"I have to go, I need to interview half the Wizarding World, which decided to go shopping at the Alley outside today," the black man said, standing up. "I'll need everyone here to sign their own statements after I've had all the paperwork ready. I'll let Harry know when that will be. Ladies, Gentlemen," he said, and walked away.

As soon as the Auror was out of sight, every single head at the table turned to Harry. The wizard squirmed on his chair, having nowhere to go.

Imogen started. "You lied to him, and worse, you made me lie to him. Why?" she asked, calmly.

"Immie, I've told you my plans. Not all of them, because I honestly didn't know how to put them into motion and some things I still don't trust you enough to tell. Sorry about it, but that's how life is for me right now. I can count on my fingers and use only one hand the people I trust one hundred percent, and one of them is sitting right at my side."

Hermione blushed while Remus looked even more hurt.

"Moony, I trust you as well, but I trust you as a man trusts a parent, and that means that I'll always love you, but some things you can't know, otherwise you'll try to interfere and I can't have that. Not right now, at least. But I _will _tell you, eventually."

"I wish you could trust me more, Harry, and that we wouldn't need to have secrets between us," Remus said.

"I do, Remus, more than you could possibly imagine, and that's why I can't tell. Not now," he said, his heart breaking with the last Marauder's look.

"So, how do I figure in this equation?" Mac asked.

"You know, Mac, because you need to know and you're bound by a wizard's oath, that's why. Look, let's not turn this into a 'Who Harry Trusts?' game, all right? I trust each and every one of you more or less the same, and that's why I'm sitting here explaining this all to you."

"So, what we are supposed to do, nod our heads while you lie to whomever you want, including the law? Remember your little joke when we met, Harry? That's not how I conduct my job," Imogen said, her eyes a stormy grey.

"Who said I lied?" he asked with a smirk.

"I've never provided you with a permanent portkey or a safe house," she pointed.

"Yes, you did. Unknowingly and by proxy, but you did. Ever seen this ring, Remus?" Harry asked the werewolf, showing him the ring.

Recognition dawned on the man. "T-that i-is..."

"My father's ring? Yes, it is. And it is also..."

"A portkey to Potter's Manor," the Marauder said, surprised. "I thought it lost after your father died."

"It was in my family's vault with a letter from Mum explaining what it was. That's why I didn't lie, Immie. It was all true, from a certain point of view," he said, smiling.

"You should go into politics, Harry," Immie laughed.

"Thank you, but no thanks," he said with a smile.

"Okay, so you didn't lie exactly, but why didn't you tell the whole truth?" Hermione asked.

"This, Mione, I'll explain with the rest later on, trust me, when we're in some place without so many ears," Harry said. "Now, let's eat, I'm starving."

* * *

After they all were filled to the brim, Dudley included, the entire group walked out, Harry looking around, hands fingering the wand resting in his pants' pocket. The Alley was surprisingly clear of people, the only wizards in sight the robed Aurors and someone who made Harry promptly groan.

"Ah, bugger," Harry said, instantly thinking about casting a concealment charm on himself, but it was already too late, she had seen him.

"Harry, langu...ah, bugger," Hermione said, but instead of groaning, she growled. Rita Skeeter was approaching them, her face as happy as if she had won the wizard equivalent of the Pulitzer.

"I'll deal with her," Imogen said, walking to the front of the group.

"No, I have an idea," Harry said, holding his lawyer's arm for a moment. Immie turned to him and nodded, but stayed close.

The change in Skeeter's demeanor was clear, the predatorial smile she was wearing enough to make Harry shiver slightly.

"Hello, Harry dear," the reporter said, the fake cheerfulness clear to all who knew her.

"Hello, Rita," he said, and faster than the eye could follow, his hand snapped and grabbed the green Quick Notes Quill flowing behind the reporter. Compared to a snitch, the thing wasn't even moving. "Now, you had something you want to ask?"

"My quill," the woman started, but stopped as soon as she saw the look in Imogen's face.

"Don't worry, it will be returned when this interview ends. It's not that I don't trust you, but your quill seems to be malfunctioning every time we speak to each other," he said sweetly, sounding so much like a Slytherin that it surprised every one of his friends.

"And how am I supposed to take notes?" the reporter asked, and a normal quill was shoved right below her nose, courtesy of the lawyer. "Thanks, Imogen," Rita said with another fake smile.

"Let's cut the Slytherin approach, Skeeter. I'm only going to give you a warning: you can ask my client anything you want and he may answer anything he likes, but if I see a single letter out of place in tomorrow's paper, let's just say that you won't like the consequences," Imogen said in a flat tone.

"I thought we were friends, Imogen," Rita said, to everyone's surprise.

"We used to be, Rita, until you started sprouting lies around, no matter the consequences or the ones affected. Until you start being a reporter once again, and not … whatever you are right now, I'm going to be only the lawyer to my client, and the most vociferous enemy you'll have regarding him. Are we understood?"

The woman gritted a "Yes," and Imogen walked to a side, but kept within hearing distance of them.

"Now, Harry, what happened here?" she asked.

"I don't know if I'm the right person that you'll want to talk right now, Rita. I think that our dear beloved Minister would be someone much more interesting to interview today," he said, playing his trump card. Hermione was right, people need to be informed.

"Fudge? What did he do, now?" the reporter asked, really curious.

"Better question is what he _didn't_ do. But let's make a deal, shall we?"

The reporter almost popped a gasket, but Harry knew what he needed to make the woman fold.

"Go ahead," she said, the simple words almost sounding like a scream of pain.

"Okay, first of all, your source is anonymous, I don't want to see my name written anywhere in the Prophet with your signature under it. Got me?"

She nodded, and Imogen smiled wolfishly.

"Apparently, Azkaban was emptied last night, and Fudge doesn't want the public to know. All the people taking care of the prison were Kissed."

"WHAT?" Skeeter screamed.

"And I think you might want to question your reading audience if they know why a well-known pureblood spawn of a Death Eater, with very clear inclinations about following the wrong path, was beaten to within an inch of his life by his own fellow Eaters."

"WHAT?" This time, the scream gained intensity but lost the timbre, turning into an ear-splitting shriek.

Hermione noticed a commotion by the Alley entrance, her own smile growing. She pulled Harry's sleeve to call his attention, and silently pointed to the group of people currently entering the Alley. Harry smiled, and turned his attention back to the reporter.

"Speaking of the devil," he said, and nodded in the direction of the group, while giving the Quick Notes quill back to Rita. She turned around, and her eyes gleamed in anticipation.

Coming out of the Cauldron was none other than Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, surrounded by ten or so Aurors.

The Boy-Who-Lived and the Minister locked eyes, Fudge's narrowing in anger, Harry's burning with the same feeling. Cornelius moved in an interception course to Harry's group while they stood their ground. Thankfully, Rita Skeeter finally cut their line of sight and moved right into position to interview Fudge.

Seeing an opportunity to avoid another confrontation, Imogen steered the group to the side, and they moved past Fudge's group in complete silence. Once they were safely inside the wizarding pub, almost all the group gave away a relieved breath.

"You said she was a Slytherin..." Harry started.

"And your friend," the bushy-haired witch finished.

"Former friend," Immie corrected. "We went to Hogwarts at the same time, I was put into Gryffindor, she in Slytherin, and aside from the common in-house rivalries, we got along famously. She was always ambitious, but she didn't distort facts and lied like she does nowadays. It started after we graduated and she landed the job at the Prophet."

"First time I'm going to thank Rita Skeeter for something," Harry said to Hermione's nod of agreement.

"You'll have to wait for tomorrow's paper, but it was masterfully done. And with my warning, she won't be able to print your name anywhere," Immie said.

"But Fudge will know," Hermione replied.

"Will he? He might suspect, but with my fame, I think he'll see the Boy-Who-Lived being interviewed, nothing else. Even if he suspects, what else he can do? Sack me?"

Hermione's reply was interrupted by Dudley.

"Who was the important-looking man back there?" the big boy asked.

"The very own Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. He and Harry have a convoluted story," Hermione replied.

"Man's a manipulative, corrupt, self-centered idiot," Harry completed. "It was because of him we were attacked last year, Dud."

Dudley's face hardened. "Can I punch him?"

"Not right now, but if the opportunity arises, I'll help you," Harry said, and more than one voice replied a "me too."

Tom approached them, and Harry took point. "Hello, Tom. Sorry about your trouble, but here," Harry said, depositing quite a few galleons in the counter. "We won't be staying for breakfast, with the attack and all, we decided to go back home."

"Sure, Harry," the man said, downcast. Harry looked around the nearly empty pub, Voldemort was bad news for business.

"Okay, thanks, and sorry for your trouble once again."

They walked out of the door to Muggle London.

"Now, how do we do this?" Harry asked to the group.

"I could hail a cab and take you, plus Mr. Granger and Dudley with us. Mr. Lupin and Mac can apparate to Privet Drive," Imogen pointed out.

With nods of agreement, they separated, Mac and Remus disappearing from muggle sight before apparating, while Immie hailed a cab to take them back.


	10. Opening up, one portkey at a time

A/N: Sorry about the long delay, but I had written myself to a corner, and my previous and unpublished version of chapter 10 sucked, so I had to go back and rewrite chapter 9. I suggest that you go back and read it, before reading this one here. And thanks for the wait. Reviews are welcome, and this time I won't take too long to write chapter 11.

* * *

10- Opening up, one portkey at a time. 

The taxi drive was tense, after all Harry was the most wanted man by a group of wizard terrorists. Dudley did know only parts of it, so he was riding shotgun, amiably chatting with the driver about football and the best players nowadays. The wizards' currently in the cab were only hoping that Voldemort wasn't a man - or whatever he was nowadays - prone to quick plans and fast attacks. Everything with him was convoluted and cunning.

Plans within plans.

"What?" Hermione, sitting at his side, asked.

He almost replied an automatic "nothing", but Hermione was his best friend, and the biggest brain that he knew. So, he repeated his thought, this time loud enough that she could hear.

"Plans within plans."

"Vol... You mean Tom?"

He nodded. She entered the state that Harry personally named 'SuperBrain at Work', eyes scrunched and unfocused. After a few moments, she focused back on him.

"I keep wondering what Draco did to him to warrant such a reaction."

"Probably forgot who he was talking to and called him a Mudblood," Harry replied, winning a snort of laughter from her. He noticed that she was still in a pensive mood, and decided to press on. "What's the problem, Mione?"

She sighed, and looked him straight in the eyes.

"You know I'm your friend, right?"

"No, you're not."

She gasped, indignantly.

"You're my best friend. Big difference there," he completed with a wicked smile, gaining a small slap in his arm.

"You git. I'm trying to be serious here!"

"Me too. Did I say something funny?"

Hermione chose to ignore him this time, otherwise she would lose the courage to say what she needed to say.

"I did something that I don't know if you will approve."

Harry's good mood vanished in a flash. "You told Dumbledore about my letter?" he asked darkly.

"Of course not, Harry! I would never betray your trust like that, especially when you asked me specifically not to tell him a thing. Who do you think I am?" she ranted, crossed her arms and scowled at him angrily.

He looked down and stammered an apology. "I-I'm sorry, Hermione. I-it's just that something happened after the Ministry, and I don't know if I can trust in him all that much anymore."

The bushy-haired witch uncrossed her arms, surprise etched in her face. Imogen, sitting to the other side of Harry, sported a similar look.

"What happened between the two of you?" his friend asked.

"I'd like to know that, as well," his lawyer continued.

"I'll tell as soon as I can, but not right now," Harry replied to the two women. "And sorry if I jumped to conclusions. Now, what did you do?"

"I told my parents about us," she said in a small voice. Harry's reaction was not what she expected, he dissolved in a fit of laughter.

"What?" she inquired indignantly.

"Sorry, Mione," he replied between giggles, "but unless we're having a torrid sexual affair that I'm not aware of, how can I not approve you telling your parents about us?"

"When I've never told them exactly what has been happening to us those last five years?"

That sobered the young wizard immediately. "Oh."

"They reacted better than I expected, given the circumstances, and then I told them about you. That's why Mum came over last night."

"I'm still alive and you're here with me. So I guess they're not planning my gruesome demise."

The girl snorted, glad that he was at least taking it all in stride.

"No, quite the contrary. They want to help you out."

"How?" he asked, really curious at this point.

"Well, first you've got to understand something, with all that has been happening those past few years, something was bound to happen. In your case, it's called PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."

"Post what?" he asked, and continued. "I feel fine."

"No, you don't," Imogen replied, instead of Hermione. "I figured out the same, myself, and I was thinking about broaching the subject with you, but apparently Hermione beat me to it."

"What is this thing?"

"It's something that happens with people that suffered some traumatic experiences during their lives, like war veterans, victims of abuse, natural disasters and things like that. In most cases, it goes away with time and a bit of help, however, your life has been a traumatic experience behind the other. You don't know what it is to have a normal life, or a good night of sleep," Hermione said.

"I've been living like that my whole life, what chance do I have?" Harry asked, for the first time in his life opening up to another person. "And your parents are dentists, Hermione, how they can help me?"

"Yes, they are. But my Uncle Alex isn't."

"Who is he?"

"Uncle Alex is my godfather, he was with the military until some time ago. He got hurt during a mission and had to leave the service. He had a diploma in Psychology, so he decided to use it, and specialized in PTSD. Useful, when you used to share the experiences of the patient being treated. Gives you a better understanding of the problem."

Harry nodded. "And about our…unique conditions?" he asked. The driver was focused in the traffic and his conversation with Dudley, but better be discreet and safe.

"He knows. My Aunt Helena does as well, and I think she'll be a great help as well."

"How?"

"She's the closest to us as you can get and not be one of us, if you get my meaning," Hermione replied.

Harry didn't, but anything else would have to wait to be discussed among only them. "And why were you worried about me not approving of it?"

"Harry, I know one thing that you hate the most is people using you and taking the decisions out of your hands. And I think I did that."

Harry smirked. "Did you force them upon me?"

"No, you didn't even meet them yet."

"Were you planning on hiding this up until the last possible minute, or even later?" he pressed on.

"Of course not. I waited for us to be alone. Or close to it, anyway," the young witch replied, her hands moving as if to encompass the cab. Harry chuckled.

"Can I say no, and will you respect my wishes if I do so?"

Hermione got way more serious, but nodded. "I won't like it, but it's your life in the end. Please accept help, Harry," she asked, as a friend, and Harry was pleased that she didn't use psychological pressure to make him answer positively.

"I'll think about it, but why can't one of you guys do this?"

"If I may, Hermione?" Imogen asked, to what the bushy-haired witch replied with a nod. "First we wouldn't know how to approach it, and for the treatment to be effective, you have to have a detachment to the person being treated. You cannot help if you start judging. Anyone close enough would probably do more bad than good."

"How do you know that?" Harry asked, curious.

"I had a great interest in Forensic Psychology during my years in Oxford."

"You did?" Hermione asked, and from there on, they embarked on a long conversation about studies and Oxford, to which Harry lost interest in no time.

He had questions and answers, but none could be given right now.

* * *

They arrived back at Privet Drive, Imogen paid the fare, and they walked into a full house, complete with screeching Aunt and interfering Headmasters. As soon as Harry crossed the door's threshold, his Aunt stopped screaming to Tonks, Lupin, Mac, Moody and Dumbledore, and walked out, mumbling under her breath. The Headmaster approached, but Harry lifted a hand. 

"I won't talk with you right now, Headmaster. I still have my issues with what we argued about at the end of term, and I don't think we need to open those wounds again, so soon."

"Harry, I just came here because I'm worried about your well being," the elderly wizard started.

"Headmaster, please. What part of 'I won't talk with you right now' didn't you understand?" he repeated, voice even, to the surprise of a few of the involved.

"I learned about what happened in the Alley, I just wanted to know…"

"If your weapon is all right? It is. Now, I suggest you leave, right now, while I'm being polite and patient. Otherwise, I'll start saying things we'll both regret a lot, later on."

Dumbledore tried to press on, but this time, Imogen was the one who spoke.

"Dumbledore, you have a minute to leave, otherwise, I'm going to start digging a lot deeper than I already have, and I know that a certain gossip reporter from a certain wizarding journal will be delighted to know how a prominent wizard from the side of the Light broke a lot of laws so that a young man could be left to live with people who treated him as a slave for eleven years."

That shut him up, but he still wore his most kindly smile.

"If that's what you wish, Harry, I'll take my leave. However, you're wrong in thinking that I think of you as a weapon. I do really care for you, a lot more than you can possibly conceive," he said.

"I used to believe in that, sir. But each passing moment, this illusion is shattered a bit more."

Dumbledore nodded, a bit saddened by the young wizard's actions, but walked out, Moody following him a few steps behind. He stopped a moment by Harry's side.

"Stupid, lad. Stupid, but well done," the old Auror said, to his surprise. Whether he was talking about Dumbledore or his actions at the Alley, Harry never knew.

Tonks, surprisingly, stayed behind.

Harry started trembling with pent up emotions, and every eye in the room was checking him out. When things started shaking by their own volition, Hermione took action and held his arm slightly. It had an almost instantaneous effect of calming him down enough so his magic got back in control.

"Sorry about that," he addressed the room.

"Harry, it's the second time I hear you talking about being Dumbledore's weapon. What is this about?" Remus asked, coming forward.

"I can't tell you right now, Moony. I wish I could, but I can't. And Tonks, why are you still here?" he asked, curious.

The pink haired Auror looked to him, surprised.

"I can't be here? Wot? I should pick a side, now? You or Dumbledore?" she asked, irritated, her hair changing to a deep red in a flash.

"No, nothing like that. I won't ask any of you to choose a side, because we're all on the same side, regardless of my problems with the Headmaster. All that I ask is that what is said in here is as much a secret as an Order of the Phoenix meeting. So, please, I consider you all my friends, but I don't want to be backstabbed by a spy. If any of you guys have a problem with that, please leave now, and we'll still be friends."

"The opposite is true as well, I won't talk about Order business with you, unless Dumbledore tells me to do so," Tonks said, and Harry nodded. Her hair returned to the previous bubblegum pink, and she returned to smile.

With that out of the way, Harry turned to Hermione.

"After what happened, I think it's time to come clear with what I can with all of you. Will your mother take too long to return?" he asked.

"I don't know, but I can call her back. Any phone I could use?"

"My room, there's a mobile charging in the outlet near the wall. You can use it," he said, and she walked upstairs to talk with her mother.

While she was gone, they talked about what had happened at the Alley, Tonks getting a full account of what had happened.

"So, let me get this straight, you went to Gringotts with the old wolf here to reclaim your inheritance, and you end up saving Lucius' spawn?"

Harry nodded.

"Did anyone cast a weird luck charm in him?" she asked to the assembled group of wizards and witches, winning a few laughs among them.

Hermione finally appeared downstairs, sporting a smile.

"My mom won't be able to come back early, but my Uncle should be here any minute now," she said to him.

The doorbell chose that exact moment to ring. Harry, as more or less host for the day, opened it up, the people at his back with wands hidden but ready.

What he saw surprised him. The man was big, six feet three, muscled but tending towards lean, with a white eyepatch covering his left eye, a scar going almost to his hairline and about an inch below his eye. His other eye was icy blue, and his hair was cut a bit longer than military fashion, as black as Harry's own. He was one scary looking bloke, if it wasn't for the smile he sported as soon as he looked behind Harry.

"Uncle Alex," Hermione said, walking around Harry, and she was engulfed in a big hug.

"Hermione. Oh, my God, how you've grown," he said, the smile growing bigger by the second. His voice was strong, the timbre of one accustomed to give orders and have them followed.

The young witch blushed badly, until a voice was heard from behind him.

"Alex, stop. You're making her blush."

While the man's voice was powerful in a commanding sort of way, hers was even more. It sounded almost…magical, hypnotic. And it was calm and controlled, something that Harry found comforting. The man moved to a side, and he finally had the opportunity to see the woman who had spoken. She was short, about Hermione's height, her skin an interesting shade of red, easily identifying her as a Native American. Her black hair was long, ending almost at her waist, and her features were graceful and exotic, if not downright beautiful. She moved, stretching her hand to Harry.

"Sorry about my husband. He can be so non-English sometimes it surprises even me. I'm Helena Granger and this is my husband Alexander, or Alex, and you must be Harry Potter, right?"

Harry grabbed the offered hand and shook it. "Yes, a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," he replied politely.

"It's enough that I have to suffer with this 'ma'am' bit from Alex's old comrades. It's just Helena," she corrected with a smile.

"Sorry, ma…Helena"

The small woman smiled, and Alex finally let go of Hermione, who turned and hugged her aunt, albeit in a more sedate way. "Harry," the man said, extending his own hand. "Call me Alex."

Harry shook it. "Sir."

"Alex," the big man corrected.

"Alex," Harry acquiesced with a nod.

"Can we come in?" Helena asked.

Harry smiled. "Sure. Where are my manners? Please, it's kind of crowded right now, but I think I'll solve this problem in a little bit."

They entered the living room, and after introductions were made, Harry turned to the arriving couple.

"Okay, I know this might sound a bit sudden of an introduction to magic, but I think we need to relocate to a better place to talk. Dudley, want to come?"

"No, I had too many emotions for the day. Bloody hell, for the year, even," the big boy replied.

Hermione scolded him for the use of language, and Harry almost fell down laughing when his cousin squirmed under her glare. In the end, only the wizards and Hermione's uncle and aunt were holding onto him, before he activated the portkey to his ancestral manor.

"I must warn you, a portkey might be a little disconcerting for the first time, and I don't know how you guys will react. So, hold on, we'll help you out on the other side, okay?" he warned the Grangers.

They both nodded, and grabbed on tighter, holding each other out.

Harry activated the portkey, and it was probably one of the worst experiences of his life regarding magical transportation.

* * *

It was a well known fact that Harry couldn't land on his feet after a portkey or floo travel. The group apparently forgot about it, or they were affected by whatever happened with him, so when they reappeared in the ancestral halls of Potter Manor, the group fell down in a jumble of bodies. The two muggles with them had an even worse experience, somehow the travel made them extremely sick, and two puddles of vomit graced the marble floor. 

They all stood up, Lupin and Immie helping the couple up, and a cleaning charm later the vomit had disappeared. Two conjured glasses of water later, and Helena was looking to her husband, while asking the group.

"What was that?"

"Portkey. It's a form of magical transportation, but I never knew it could be so bad to muggles," Remus replied, while the rest of them checked the surroundings. "Harry here has a tradition of not being able to finish one trip standing up, but I never thought it was contagious."

Tonks and Mac chuckled, while the rest smiled.

"What a weird experience. I never felt so disconnected my entire life," Helena said, finally able to stand up right without support.

"Disconnected?" Hermione asked, her curious mind working furiously.

"I have a link to the Great Spirit, this link was severely shook up with this…portkey travel."

"And I guess that having just one eye doesn't help much with it, as well," Alex pointed out, having recovered faster than his wife.

"I'm sorry about this, I…" Harry started apologizing, but Alex's big hand in his shoulder stopped his diatribe.

"You knew about it?" Alex asked, and Harry shook his head no. "Any other way that we could have used to arrive here?"

"No," Remus interceded. "Unplottable area, and also heavily warded against any sort of invaders. All the old ancestral homes are more or less like this. Only Harry could bring us here, using the portkey."

"Then, no harm no foul," the man said, smiling. Harry relaxed, but some of the unwarranted guilt remained behind.

After a few more moments so people could gather their wits, Harry cleaned his throat.

"Sorry about the bumpy road, but I needed some place secure enough for we to talk. I don't trust my relatives, and nowadays my relationship with Headmaster Dumbledore is a bit shook up."

Tonks snorted with the understatement, but remained silent. He approached Remus.

"Any place where we can have a long conversation? And not the library, otherwise either you or Hermione won't pay attention to a word I'll say," he pointed out. The werewolf chuckled, but led them to a big living room with a fireplace large enough to cook an adult hippogriff with room to spare. Above the mantelpiece hung a wizarding painting of a man dressed in ancient warrior fatigues.

"Who comes to this Ancestral and Noble Home, after all this time?" the picture asked.

Lupin nudged Harry forward, and the young man looked sheepishly to him. "Come on, introduce yourself. I think you'll like him," Remus said, with a slight smile on his face.

"My name is Harry, sir. Harry Potter," the young wizard said to the painting. Both Alex and Helena were fairly impressed with the magical painting, but remained silent.

"You are young James' son? What happened to your father, young man?" the painting asked again.

"Yes, I am, sir. And he died, fifteen years ago," Harry replied.

"What a pity. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Godric of Gryffindor."


End file.
